


The Fate of the Funny

by essomenic



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Ordinary People, Angst and Humor, Bisexual Male Character, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Cute, Cute Kids, Domestic Boyfriends, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Funny, I'm too lazy to change it, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inappropriate Use of Lightsabers, Insomnia, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, OTP Feels, Oneshot, Past Relationship(s), Please Don't Hate Me, Possessive Behavior, References to Drugs, SUFFER WITH ME, Set in America, Stalking, Suffering, Texting, Unrequited Crush, Violence, but hey i thought it was kinda funny, byeongkwan is a cutE, chan is a spoiled rich kid, customer jason, fuck i meant cutie, help me, i changed this to explicit because things HAve chANGED FOR BETTER OR WORSE, im continuing this bc i love fucking up my sleep schedule, long fic, that tag was funny but i might use it, uh, um yogurt????, walgreens employee!seyoon, watch me do it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-01-23 22:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12517908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essomenic/pseuds/essomenic
Summary: Byeongkwan finds his childhood friend and crush again, after years of separation. That's fine, he supposes, but not when he's buying Eggo's at midnight on a Tuesday.Or, alternatively, the fic in which Byeongkwan is whipped for Sehyoon and Sehyoon's just trying to do his damn job.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so i noticed there's almost NO A.C.E fanfics on here so here's a oneshot that's been on my computer for ages lolol. if i get enough comments or anything i might continue it. tell me what you think (?)
> 
> COMMENTS + KUDOS APPRECIATED (:

 

It’s somewhere in the frozen aisle of Walgreens that Byeongkwan realizes he would actually like to die.

 

It’s not some kind of profound realization. He doesn’t have an epiphany staring at a box of fucking pizza rolls. He doesn’t suddenly come to the conclusion as he stuffs Eggo’s under his arm, either. He’s kind of known it all along, somewhere in his brain, probably. It just hasn’t surfaced until now.

 

The reason? Simple:

 

 _Kim fucking Sehyoon_.

 

“Can I help you?” Sehyoon repeats, but Byeongkwan only vaguely remembers hearing him the first time. He panics a little, nearly dropping his phone. _Did he say something important?_ He thinks faintly. _Oh god, how long has he been standing there?_

 

Byeongkwan doesn’t turn away from the frozen popsicles he’s glaring at. He doesn’t have to look at the other boy to know that Sehyoon is licking his lips expectantly and running his left hand through his hair. Byeongkwan feels a little creepy for knowing this, but whatever. He brushes it off with a shake of his head and a nervous laugh that comes out sounding more like a strangled animal than anything else.

 

How pleasant. Real smooth, Byeongkwan. You’ll win anyone over with that for sure.

 

“Uh,” he says intelligently. “H-how much is this?”

 

Sehyoon’s eyes follow the shaky finger Byeongkwan jabs in the direction of a box of ice cream sandwiches inside the freezer. Sehyoon stares for a few seconds, not saying anything. He blinks.

 

“The price tag is right there?”

 

Byeongkwan glances at the ice cream and sure enough, there is the big yellow price sticker. It stares back at him. _Stupid_. He feels Sehyoon’s eyes on him, an eyebrow probably raised and dark eyes judging him.

 

_Of course._

 

“Oh hey, yeah it is,” he tries weakly. Sehyoon chuckles next to him and it’s like the sound of wind chimes or materialized sunshine or some cheesy shit. Byeongkwan mentally stabs himself.

 

Sehyoon shifts his weight onto his other foot, reminding Byeongkwan of the fact that he’s been dumbly standing in this same aisle for like, _twenty minutes_. He peeks at the other boy subtly (or as subtly as he can manage). It’s not subtle enough, apparently, because Sehyoon catches his eye and his forehead creases in the middle.

 

“We’ll be closing the store soon,” he says, bouncing on the toes of his sneakers cutely. He clasps his hands behind his back and Byeongkwan offhandedly wonders how in the world he managed to run into Kim Sehyoon _here_ , of all places.

 

“I guess you’re kicking me out, huh?” Byeongkwan laughs with a weird pat to the Eggo’s box tucked in the crook of his arm. He also weirdly smiles at Sehyoon with a weird gesture he thinks is supposed to be a nonchalant shrug. It’s all just weird.

 

If Sehyoon thinks it’s weird, too, he doesn’t mention it _._

 

“Some of us gotta get home and tend to the farm,” is his reply.

 

Byeongkwan gasps out loud. “You own a _farm_?”

 

Sehyoon shoots him an odd look. “It’s... just an expression.”

 

Byeongkwan’s lips form an “o”. Sehyoon’s eyebrow twitches.

 

“Do I know you?” He squints for added effect, and Byeongkwan shrinks under his scrutinizing gaze.

 

“No? Of course not,” he all but wheezes. “Why would I know you? I just came here to get Eggo’s. I’m not trying anything, dude – j-just my Eggo’s. Just a man getting his Eggo’s. I’ve never seen you in my life.”

 

Sehyoon quirks an eyebrow. Byeongkwan thinks they're rather active. He wouldn't be surprised if there were bulging muscles under his eyebrow hairs or something. Eyebrow. It's such a weird word.

 

“If you’re, uh, done here, I can check you out,” the other boy scratches his head. Byeongkwan wants to die. Sehyoon turns now and motions for Byeongkwan to follow after him. Byeongkwan really doesn’t want to, but he forces himself to trail after him anyway.

 

It’s only a short trek to the front registers, but it feels like an eternity. He watches Sehyoon walking in front of him, taking note of the tight jeans that hug his legs nicely and the delicious blue sweater pushed up to his elbows. He walks in short, determined steps, as if he's irritated. Byeongkwan follows quickly on his heels, sheepish. The older boy slips behind the counter and punches something into the register before raising his gaze to meet Byeongkwan’s. Byeongkwan stares back, in awe. He hasn’t been this close to him for at least six years.

 

Sehyoon’s eyebrows reach for heaven, disappearing underneath the mop of hair on his forehead. “Your Eggo’s, please.”

 

“Sorry, what?”

 

Sehyoon points at the box of frozen waffles Byeongkwan is still holding in his arms like a newborn child. Embarrassment prickles at his skin. He quickly places his Eggo’s onto the counter, only to have them snatched up and violently scanned in a flash. He watches in a daze, a little bewildered. He types his phone number onto the keypad and swipes his debit card.

 

“Paper or plastic?” Sehyoon monotones, leaning an arm against the countertop. The veins bulge slightly and Byeongkwan tries not to stare.

 

“Can I have you?”

 

The words tumble from his lips without Byeongkwan even realizing. His eyes widen in shock as he hears his own voice and _what the hell_. He brings his hands up to cover his mouth immediately, face flushing a deep red _. Good god w_ _hat the hell Byeongkwan you’re such a fucking idiot—_

 

Sehyoon blinks. “Plastic it is.”

 

Byeongkwan laughs for what feels like the hundredth time but it comes out weird again. It sounds like he’s dying. He kind of _feels_ like he’s dying. Is this real life? Is this just fantasy?

 

Byeongkwan’s hands are shaking slightly when Sehyoon hands over his receipt with a small sigh. Byeongkwan doesn’t miss the irked look on his face or the dark circles under his eyes. He suddenly feels like a massive dick. It’s midnight on a Tuesday. Anybody would be tired after a long shift, yet here he is, twiddling his thumbs. He could apologize but he feels like that’ll make things even more awkward.

 

It isn’t until he’s being handed his bag that Byeongkwan’s mind decides to remind him that he’s currently buying Eggo’s in the middle of the night in an orange sweatshirt he’s pretty sure he spilled pizza on earlier, pink booty shorts, and the bunny slippers his grandma gave him for Christmas two years ago.

 

Fuck.

 

He turns around, ready to Usain Bolt the fuck out of there, when Sehyoon stops him.

 

“ _Wait_.”

 

Byeongkwan turns slowly, throwing a terrified look over his shoulder. He feels like a deer in the headlights. A more literal analogy would be a _bunny_ in the headlights (haha, good one Byeongkwan) with Sehyoon an angry truck driver that doesn’t care about little rabbits crossing the street. Byeongkwan gulps.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are you _sure_ I don’t know you?” He places a hand on his hip with a troubled expression. “You look _really_ familiar.”

 

“I don’t normally look like this,” Byeongkwan blurts.

 

Sehyoon stares at him. “And what do you _normally_ look like?” He deadpans.

 

“I mean, I’m normally really—” Byeongkwan remembers his hair and the ugly ass glasses perched on his nose and cringes. “Hot?”

 

The ghost of a smile plays with the ends of the other boy’s lips. _Juicy_ lips. Byeongkwan plods on hopefully.

 

“I even kind of model,” he states proudly, hoping for more of a reaction this time. Like maybe more emotion than a corpse could emit. Maybe another smile. “I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”

 

Sehyoon considers this, casually leans against the counter again. He looks delicious with a capitol D and he knows it, too. The inside of Walgreens has never felt this uncharacteristically warm.

 

“I keep thinking you look like someone I used to know,” Sehyoon sighs, and Byeongkwan nearly shits his pants as the older boy gives him another once-over. He wants to sink into the floor.

 

“That’s nice,” Byeongkwan barks unceremoniously. “Too bad I’m not him.”

 

Sehyoon doesn’t say anything, but his eyebrows start rising toward heaven again, and that gives Byeongkwan anxiety. He wheels around in his bunny slippers with an awkward thank you and a weird wave that Sehyoon doesn’t return. He’s halfway through the door when Sehyoon’s mouth opens and a small “what a weirdo” is carried to Byeongkwan’s ears over the sound of the closing doors. He doesn’t bother turning around. He runs all the way home, not stopping until he’s safely inside his room. His face feels like it’s on fire. Byeongkwan goes straight to the bathroom to possibly drown himself in the bathtub because _Kim fucking Sehyoon is back in America and works at the Walgreens two blocks from his apartment._

 

Yes, Byeongkwan would like to die right about now.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byeongkwan can't help this growing obsession, but one mistake will change everything.

 

For all the cumulative data Byeongkwan has stored in his brain, there isn’t a single rational excuse within the expanse of his knowledge that can explain why he’s stepping inside the corner Walgreens for a third time this week.

 

Really, they have enough cup noodles and yogurt to last them probably two lifetimes. It’s not as if his incapacitated roommate is going to magically consume the twelve packs of cheesecake flavored _Yoplait_ Byeongkwan has stashed in the back of the fridge. It’s not like Donghun, who actually hates cheesecake flavoring more than he does yogurt in general, is going to move from the couch with two broken ribs and a fractured tibia and think “hey, I’d like some yogurt right about now.” Hell, even Byeongkwan doesn’t care for the stuff.

 

_So why is he buying it again?_

 

Well, probably because Byeongkwan has no impulse control, but mostly because one thing his brain _does_ contain is a lot of unnecessarily detailed information pertaining to a certain Kim Sehyoon.

 

Like what Sehyoon eats for dinner between his six to midnight shifts on Tuesdays. Or the fact that he plays a _Candy Crush_ knock-off with his feet propped up on the front counter like a total _prick_. Frankly, Byeongkwan even knows the brand of gum he chews, and this disturbing data has not traveled by word of mouth.

 

To put it bluntly, Byeongkwan’s a little creepy. And yeah, maybe creepy is a massive understatement, but whatever. He’s been stalking his former best friend, yes, but with only the _best_ of intentions. What’s so weird about that?

 

Everything. People (including Donghun, that wretch) have began to notice. Byeongkwan wasn’t one to spend his free time in convenience stores before. Now? He’s populating the Walgreens so much he’s on a first name basis with several of the staff. And so far he’s learned a lot of valuable knowledge in his endeavors, most of which is crucial for decoding whatever weird species Sehyoon belongs to. Like:

 

  1. Kim Sehyoon really likes cheesecake flavored Yoplait.
  2. Kim Sehyoon has no heart or soul to speak of.



 

The second point has been common wisdom since the stone ages, though. Sehyoon was infamous in middle school for making Ben Stipple, the foreign kid with a failing kidney, pee his pants. That story’s still shrouded in mystery, especially since Ben _couldn’t even_ _physically pee by himself_. Byeongkwan, who spent the better part of his childhood with Sehyoon, still has no fucking idea how the eleven year-old accomplished a feat that defies both science and nature. Byeongkwan isn’t even positive he knows who Kim Sehyoon _is_. Where did he disappear to after eighth grade? Just what the hell did he do to his animal crackers to get them to taste like anything other than cardboard?

 

Maybe it’s these questions that drive Byeongkwan back to Walgreens. Maybe it’s Sandra, the lady behind the pharmacy counter, that really pushed him to this point (damn her for mentioning Sehyoon’s obsession with yogurt). Any way Byeongkwan looks at it, he’s taking one for the team by spying on the attractive boy.

 

 _Sehyoon_ , though. Sehyoon doesn’t seem too happy about it.

 

“You’re back _again_?” He scowls from his seat the second he spots Byeongkwan trying to squeeze through the automatic doors unnoticed. He has his feet atop the counter, sans the polite smile he offers other guests. It’s his usual position he takes up the second management is out of sight.

 

Byeongkwan flushes bright red immediately. “I’m not back for more yogurt this time,” he mumbles sheepishly.

 

“Thank god. I was starting to worry you were doing weird shit with it,” Sehyoon shakes his head in disgust.

 

“You were worried about me?” Byeongkwan lets a sliver of hopefulness slip between his words. Sehyoon’s frown deepens.

 

“I don’t cater to the fetishes of creeps.”

 

Consider his dreams squashed beneath Sehyoon’s ass of a personality. Well, Byeongkwan wouldn’t really mind if it was just Sehyoon’s ass, but that’s another story.

 

“Who’s a creep?” Byeongkwan laughs nervously. A blush claws its way up his neck to color his cheeks.

 

“You.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Who _else_? We’re the only two people here.”

 

“Not unless you count the dead people.”

 

Sehyoon blinks. He doesn’t even look shocked. Instead, he looks done. Two hundred percent done. _Three thousand_ percent done. He palms his face with his free hand, clearly exasperated.

 

“I’m not going to ask. Just get what you need and I’ll ring you up,” he sighs. Byeongkwan shoots him awkward finger guns. Only after he sees Sehyoon’s stony expression does he realize maybe mentioning his superstitious beliefs hadn’t been the best idea.

 

Fantastic, Byeongkwan. Killer with the men.

 

“I’m not like, a s-stalker or anything,” he scoffs, trudging away from both the front counter and Sehyoon dejectedly.

 

“One man does not need that much yogurt!” Sehyoon calls after him. Byeongkwan spins around to whine an “it’s not all for me!” even though it is, in fact, all for him. Donghun will not eat the stuff. Sehyoon will never have to know this, though.

 

Byeongkwan quickly picks out a few things to make it look like he had actual cause and purpose to be here: a new toothbrush, a toy for Donghun’s cat, a bag of fun-sized Twix, and a six-pack of beer. He finds himself naturally gravitating back to the counter, so he snatches a bag of cheesy popcorn on the way. He hopes Sehyoon will ask about the cat toy. Maybe Sehyoon has a cat, too. Or maybe his roommate does. Maybe they could bond over their roommates’ pets.

 

But Sehyoon isn’t at the counter when Byeongkwan returns. He looks around (even peering over the countertop), but Sehyoon isn’t anywhere in sight. Then Byeongkwan spots the bell next to the register. He gives it a tentative shake. Then he shakes it again, harder this time once Sehyoon doesn’t magically appear in front of him. On the contrary, it takes several minutes for a pissed off looking Sehyoon to return with the whole front of his blue t-shirt sopping wet.

 

“Why are you wet?” Byeongkwan blurts.

 

Sehyoon’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension as he starts scanning Byeongkwan’s items. “Not because of you.”

 

Byeongkwan opens his mouth to say something but nothing of substance comes out. He thinks maybe it was a laugh, but it’s hard to say at this point.

 

“Are you even old enough to buy alcohol?” Sehyoon questions. Byeongkwan fishes his ID out of his front pocket to hold up for Sehyoon to squint at. “No way you’re that old.” Byeongkwan awkwardly moves the card closer, as if that's magically going to make Sehyoon believe him. “No _way_.”

 

“I-I don’t know how to respond to that...”

 

“I thought you were a high school student!” Sehyoon laughs incredulously. This deeply offends Byeongkwan. If he’s being dramatic, he’d say it hurts him to the very core of his being, but no. He’ll save the dramatics to theatrical majors and Britney Spears circa 2007.

 

“I don’t look that young...” he mumbles almost inaudibly. He slips his card back into his pocket and wrings his hands uncomfortably. Sehyoon doesn’t seem to notice.

 

“This is gold! You’re basically a baby.” Sehyoon scans the cat toy without a second glance. A bit of Byeongkwan’s soul escapes his body.

 

“I don’t see why you’d care...”

 

“What was that?”

 

“N-nothing.”

 

Sehyoon finishes ringing up Byeongkwan. Unlike the first time, he doesn’t ask about types of bags or that nonsense. It saves Byeongkwan the mental trauma of having to relive that nightmare. At least this time he’s decidedly dressed in more appropriate attire, a.k.a. a clean sweater and jeans. No pizza stains or booty shorts or bunny slippers. Byeongkwan cringes at the very thought.

 

Sehyoon hands Byeongkwan his receipt with no hitches until—

 

“Who is it?”

 

Byeongkwan stops chewing on the inside of his cheek to stare at the older boy properly. “E-excuse me?”

 

“The person. Who you share the yogurt with,” Sehyoon elaborates with a pointed look. “No way you can eat all of it yourself and live to torment me here.”

 

“ _BET_ ,” Byeongkwan insists, snubbed. “I’m like, basically a professional eater at this point.” He pouts without realizing it.

 

Sehyoon smirks. “No need to get your feathers all ruffled."

 

Byeongkwan’s face heats again. "I’m not!”

 

“Your face says otherwise.”

 

Byeongkwan slaps his hands over his cheeks in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. This only causes Sehyoon’s grin to grow.

 

“You just made it worse.”

 

“Oh, fuck off,” Byeongkwan huffs. He picks up his bags hurriedly, carefully avoiding eye contact.

 

“So who is it?”

 

Byeongkwan wants to scream. And possibly die. He finds he wants to die a lot whenever he’s around Sehyoon. Donghun would prophesize it to be lingering emotions, something like that. The only emotions Byeongkwan can remember attaching to Sehyoon are good ones, though, so that doesn’t explain why he generally feels so... awful? No, that’s not the word. It doesn’t make sense. Sehyoon is a stupid head. Arguably, Byeongkwan is a bigger stupid head, because he doesn’t seem to _mind_ this. He actually goes out of his way to be treated like a joke by his childhood friend. His childhood friend who doesn’t remember him, at that. It’s pathetic.

 

“It’s just a friend,” Byeongkwan shrugs.

 

“A friend,” echoes Sehyoon.

 

“Yup. Friend, buddy, bro. Buddy ol’ pal. J-just a couple dudes.”

 

“That sounds real heterosexual,” Sehyoon comments.

 

 _It is_ , Byeongkwan hisses mentally. Donghun is like an older brother to him. He’s known him almost as long as Sehyoon’s been MIA. It’d be pretty fucking weird to think of him like... _that_.

 

Byeongkwan’s brain quickly reminds him that Sehyoon was like a brother to him once, too.

 

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to tell him that,” Byeongkwan quips, turning now to properly exit the store.

 

“You do that,” singsongs Sehyoon, a sadistic look on his face.

 

Screw him.

 

 

–––

 

 

Once he’s back at his apartment, Byeongkwan finds Donghun on the couch. He isn’t surprised at this point because, well, the dude can’t really go anywhere. Instead of the disabled boy, Duchess, Donghun’s Munchkin cat, pads over to Byeongkwan to chat. She rubs against his legs with a soft purr. Byeongkwan picks her up to cuddle in his arms (subsequently dropping the groceries onto the floor with a thump). He pecks her head while petting her soft fur. Donghun lazily glances at them from where he’s sprawled out on the sofa watching anime because _of fucking course he is._

 

“How was stalking your homeboy?” He speaks up without any real interest. He’s two beers and a Tylenol away from concerned with the trials of man.

 

“He thinks you’re heterosexual,” Byeongkwan retorts dryly. He sets Duchess down again and she leaps over to the couch to sit on Donghun’s chest and whack him in the face with her tail. Donghun cries out in pain. Byeongkwan moves to the kitchen to somehow stuff the groceries into the messy space. He hears his roommate snort.

 

“Well good, because I am.”

 

“That’s debatable.”

 

Byeongkwan moves the orange juice from one position to another inside the fridge so his mother’s stir-fry pan will fit inside. There’s no room for the indefinite amount of Cheesecake Yoplait and the newly acquired beer. Looks like Byeongkwan’s lunch and dinner for the next two years is set. _Fantastic!_

 

“All you do is hang around that Walgreens and stare through the window like some fucking creep,” Donghun bemoans from the living room as Byeongkwan actively ignores him. For being debilitated, he isn’t in the position to be complaining; Byeongkwan’s been playing nurse for somewhere around a month. And not of his own violation, either. He really could strangle him. Or drug him and steal all the money in his bank account. There are endless possibilities.

 

“I am simply observing from a safe distance,” is Byeongkwan's reply.

 

“Do you even talk to him? Is he hot? Why doesn’t he remember you?”

 

Byeongkwan shuts the fridge with a soft thud. To be honest, he isn’t sure if Sehyoon remembers him or not. He thinks the other man would say something or at least _hint_ he remembers Byeongkwan, considering how cheeky he is. Sehyoon doesn’t seem like the type to hold back on persecuting others, but then again, Byeongkwan doesn’t really know him. All he knows is what he used to. However, that was such a long time ago. Who knows what's irrelevant anymore. Byeongkwan has no idea what Sehyoon’s been through since they split ways around six years ago. Hell, he could’ve killed a guy or something.

 

It’s the fact that Byeongkwan doesn’t know that frustrates him. It’s this frustration that keeps him from responding.

 

Eventually, Duchess comes into the kitchen to see for herself what all the noise is about. She head-butts Byeongkwan’s hip as he sits cross-legged on the floor, his back against the closed fridge. He opened a yogurt but he seriously questions if he’s going to eat it. It’d be bad to feed cats, right...?

 

Byeongkwan decides that yes, it would be bad. He moves the plastic container away from Duchess’ reach. She mewls at him inquiringly.

 

“I got a toy for Duchess!” He calls to Donghun. Donghun, in turn, just mumbles something about spoiling “his girl.”

 

Byeongkwan saunters back into the living area, Duchess on his heels. He tosses the cat toy at Donghun. It bounces off his face and falls on the floor. Duchess inspects it with a sniff.

 

“Don’t you think it’s kind of...weird?” Donghun says with a scratch to his armpit. One of his anime girls screams in the background.

 

“What is?”

 

“The whole Sehyoon thing.”

 

Another scream. Byeongkwan looks to the TV to see animated body parts being severed and flung around a room. He looks away again.

 

Byeongkwan shrugs. “I guess. But I look different now. I dress better. And I don’t have all that acne.” He shudders at the memory.

 

“Do you have his number?”

 

“Uh, no.”

 

“Did you tell him who you are?”

 

“Why the hell would I do _that_?”

 

Donghun yawns with a, “there’s your problem, then.”

 

Byeongkwan thinks that’s probably fair. But to be honest, he’s not sure telling Sehyoon who he is would be a great idea. In theory, maybe. And possible in reality, too, if there wasn’t complicated history there. It would be fantastic to talk to Sehyoon normally, ask him how his life’s been all these years. Unfortunately, that’s just isn't a possibility.

 

Donghun’s leg shoots into the air. “Shit, bro!” He suddenly screams, eyes blown wide. Byeongkwan hurries to his side.

 

“What the fuck?” Byeongkwan hovers over him, inspecting him for further possible injury. “Are you in pain again? You can’t take more than two Tylenol every four to six hours. You’re going to ruin your liver.”

 

“No, not that. _This_!”  Donghun holds up his phone. The screen reflects off the light from the window as Byeongkwan raises his eyebrows.

 

“What _about_ it?”

 

“Use it!”

 

“I'm lost...”

 

Donghun quickly unlocks his phone and shoves it into Byeongkwan’s hands. He has Instagram open to a chat with his mother.

 

“Uh...”

 

“Find Sehyoon on there, dumbass,” Donghun explains hastily. “Then tell him who you are! He’s _got_ to recognize the name.”

 

“No, that’s weird,” Byeongkwan lets out a puff of air. “He’ll think I’m stalking him...”

 

“May I remind you that you actually _are_?”

 

Byeongkwan scowls, saying, “Yes, but _he_ doesn’t know that!”

 

Donghun blinks. “Pretty sure he does.” He snatches his phone back. “What’s his family name again? I’ll do it for you.”

 

A wave of panic washes over Byeongkwan. He blindly tries to get the phone back, but Donghun somehow still manages to evade his attack even whilst being, you know, supposedly incapacitated. Byeongkwan whines.

 

“Dude, it’ll be fine,” Donghun reassures with a smile. “At least let me find him so we can stalk his account. I swear to god, if his account’s private, I won’t let you ever see him again. It’s always shady fuckers that are private. They have something to hide.” He narrows his eyes almost threateningly.

 

Byeongkwan sighs. “It’s Kim. Kim Sehyoon.”

 

Donghun nods, typing into the search bar. A few moments pass. Then, “Found him.” Donghun turns the screen for Byeongkwan to see. “He isn’t private, so let the stalking commence!”

 

And the stalking does. Byeongkwan carefully scrolls through Sehyoon’s 167 posts, making extra sure he doesn’t accidentally like one of his pictures. He even clicks on a couple selfies to admire the man’s looks. He really grew up to be quite the looker. He’s always been attractive, but he really looks like, _Sexy_ now. Sexy with a _capital_ S. Big difference. There’s one black and white selfie in particular that has Byeongkwan’s heart stuttering.

 

“Holy hell, he’s attractive,” Donghun gasps in awe. He’s looking over Byeongkwan’s shoulder as the younger gets comfortable on the floor next to the couch.

 

“He’s mine,” Byeongkwan barks. He puts a protective hand on the screen so Donghun can’t see.

 

“I’m straight, but even _I_ want a bite of that ass,” Donghun replies, mystified. “Ninth wonder of the world right there.”

 

“What’s the eighth?”

 

“How I’m still straight.”

 

Both laugh hysterically because, really, that was pretty funny. Kind of sad, but funny.

 

It’s then, during their hysterics, that it happens. Byeongkwan really should have been more vigilant. He should’ve been paying more attention, had a better grip, _something_. It’s while they’re laughing that Byeongkwan’s fingers fumble. He seems to watch in slow motion as the phone slips from his grasp and starts falling. He desperately tries to catch it. Donghun makes some kind of comment about being more careful, but Byeongkwan doesn’t hear him. He’s too busy being _utterly horrified._

 

“I-I...think I just fucked up...” he whispers, his voice barely there. Donghun looks over his shoulder.

 

“Oh shit...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i decided to continue this so give it some love pls i know this is boring rn but it'll get rlly...typical and gushy later. kudos and comments feed your author pls donate to the cause


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byeongkwan does Donghun a solid that will ultimately make both their lives a hell of a lot more complicated.

 

Byeongkwan’s always kind of known he’s not the most intelligent being on the planet. He got average grades in high school, he supposes, and he’s cheating (bless you, Quizlet) his way through his third year of university. Nothing, though, has amounted to this level of complete _buffoonery_.

 

“You didn’t,” Donghun groans. “Did you seriously...oh my god, Bye. You fucking _idiot_.”

 

Both boys stare at the phone in Byeongkwan’s hands with a mixture of distress and panic. Anxiety and suspense invite dread to the party in their stomachs and it’s now evident that this new party-goer is a wild one. _Fucking hell._

 

“I can fix this!” Byeongkwan hisses. “Sehyoon hasn’t read the message yet. I can just delete it.” It’s as soon as he utters this that the direct message is opened. The tiny read receipt glares back at Byeongkwan with such genuine ferocity that he finds himself choking.

 

“ _Christ_.” Donghun can’t even look anymore. He turns away, shielding his eyes with his arms as he leans back on the couch. “You just _had_ to go and jinx yourself. This is a shitshow.”

 

Byeongkwan watches Sehyoon’s reply appear before his eyes.

 

 

**Do.hunny:**

jfijh897wihf

**seeeyooo:**

what

 

 

“W-we could...say it was an accident?” Byeongkwan suggests.

 

“Or we could burn the phone and erase the evidence,” Donghun begins nodding as if he's actually considering it. “Might as well change our names and flee the country, while we’re at it. Are you feeling Fernando or Ferdinand? I still have those fake ID’s Chan made for me.”

 

Byeongkwan doesn’t ask why he has fake ID’s in the first place. If Chan is involved, it’s highly likely it’s illegal and questioning it would result in probable jail time or expulsion. Their friend can’t legally drive, yet has seven cars he occasionally crashes into light posts. If that isn’t a testament to his character, Byeongkwan doesn’t know what is.

 

“We could explain that this was all just a misunderstanding.”

 

Donghun glares at him. “Do you have a craving for death?”

 

“It’s a theme I’ve been toying with.”

 

“Stop being so damn emo. I thought you left that phase in 2009.”

 

Byeongkwan huffs indignantly. He places a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “Those are my roots, Hunny, my _roots_. I will never stray from my humble beginnings.”

 

Donghun just looks at him incredulously. It’s true that Byeongkwan _kind of_ had a scene phase he struggled with and would prefer to forget about, but Donghun had one too. The dude had fucking _pink hair_ and stole his mother’s eyeliner every day of ninth grade. He has no room to talk.

 

“Back to the issue at present,” Donghun quips because, well, even _he’s_ stressed about the recent developments. “Just ignore it and move on with your life. It’s my account; he doesn’t know me.”

 

Byeongkwan considers this. That would be the smart, sensible thing to do. However, Byeongkwan isn’t all that sensible and he’s already expressed his grievances in the intelligence department. So instead, he makes a decision and hatches a plan instantaneously. And _damn_ is it a good plan.

 

“I’m going to need your login information.”

 

“Like fuck you are,” Donghun frowns. “I don’t want you seeing all my messages.”

 

“What, the daily ones with your mother? Already saw them.”

 

Donghun gasps, scandalized, but before he can respond, Byeongkwan is whipping out his own (albeit slightly less dapper) iPhone. There’s a dent in the side from when he dropped it while on the toilet last week. Really, he blames Donghun for that. The idiot interrupted his concentration. Note to self: don’t try to shit while your roommate is moaning about brownies in the other room.

 

“I promise I won’t read your weird chats with your milfs,” Byeongkwan raises his hand to cross his heart. He has Instagram up on his own phone. “Now give me your password.”

 

“Why should I?” Donghun challenges.

 

“I’ll go on a date with you.”

 

“Ew, why would I want _that_?”

 

“Not just me, you fuckaziod, I mean a double date. Just give me the password, please.” Here is where Byeongkwan dons his signature puppy dog eyes. The eyes not even the most heartless of humans can deny. It’s questionable whether Donghun is actually human or possesses a heart, but still. It works.

 

Donghun groans again. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s unfair.”

 

“Life’s unfair, bitch.”

 

Donghun relents eventually. He’ll come to pay for his actions, but for now, he’s content with teasing Byeongkwan.

 

“Someone’s got a crush,” he coos. “Bye’s in a _loveeeee_.”

 

Byeongkwan slaps his roommate’s thigh. “You wanted me to get his number.”

 

“Yeah, but not with _my_ account, pretending to be _me_. Big difference, my friend.”

 

Byeongkwan levels Donghun with an icy gaze. “We are not friends.”

 

“Right. My apologies, baby, I wasn’t thinking. Can’t believe I’d say something like this to my wife. What would the kids think? Duchess, cover your ears! Your parents are fighting! Wait, no. Shit, we’re not fighting! Ignore us! Mommy’s just cheating on me with a man whose ass I want to eat!”

 

Byeongkwan blinks. “That sounds complicated.”

 

“Welcome to MTV, this is my crib.”

 

Byeongkwan pointedly ignores Donghun. Some things are too preposterous to bother commenting on.

 

 

–––

 

 

Now in the safety of his own room, Byeongkwan is free to instigate what is possibly one of the worst decisions he’s ever made (besides that time Donghun convinced him to microwave his leftover baked potato and Byeongkwan momentarily forgot tin foil is made of, well, tin. R.I.P. Toaster-kun).

 

He doesn’t think much as he types. There’s no need; right now, he’s Donghun and Donghun’s a lot more attractive than Byeongkwan and doesn’t stalk Sehyoon at the workplace. Byeongkwan – er, Donghun? – finally has a chance. Praise the spirits above.

 

 

**Do.hunny:**

Oops! Hi, sorry. My cat like walked across my screen and somehow ended up messaging you haha

**seeeyooo:**

lol how does that even happen? I see your cat’s a big fan

**Do.hunny:**

She has good taste hehe

**seeeyooo:**

what kind of cat is she?

**Do.hunny:**

Munchkin. Her name’s Duchess because my roommate insists she’s royalty

Any pets yourself?

**seeeyooo:**

a cat too. name’s jenny

 

 

Byeongkwan fist-bumps the air. So he _does_ have a cat. He had a feeling. Something about the stoic dark haired boy just reeked Soft-Place-for-Cats.

 

 

**Do.hunny:**

That’s kind of a weird name for a cat, don’t you think?

**seeeyooo:**

like ur one to judge dude. tf is up with your username

you aren’t secretly a girl..right

**Do.hunny:**

Would you prefer me to be a girl?

**seeeyooo:**

first of all, don’t deflect

second of all, that...just sounds creepy

**Do.hunny:**

Sorry aha. Serious question though

**seeeyooo:**

I don’t have any gender preferences, if that’s what ur asking

**Do.hunny:**

Oh good (:

**seeeyooo:**

??

**Do.hunny:**

Haha nothing. I’m Donghun by the way!!

**seeeyooo:**

I’m sehyoon. nice to meet you

**Do.hunny:**

Likewise!

**seeeyooo:**

what brings you to my profile

**Do.hunny:**

You’re hot

**seeeyooo:**

thanks?

ur not too bad urself

**Do.hunny:**

I just Choked.

fiejohfsudhfjkd thAnk you ^^

**seeeyooo:**

well don’t die

at least wait until ur done conversing with me to keel over

**Do.hunny:**

Right sorry. Where are my manners

 

 

Byeongkwan hides his excitement into the crook of his arm. For some reason, he feels relieved and... _elated_ right now. He could run a marathon or something. Possibly a triathlon after a quick snack, too. His heart is racing and it’s so _stupid_. He’s floating, not quite on cloud nine, but somewhere close by (maybe cloud six, who the fuck knows). In the back of his mind, he knows this is dumb because they’re just casually conversing and Sehyoon doesn’t even know Byeongkwan _is_ Byeongkwan. Regardless, Byeongkwan lets out a satisfied sigh. This is nice. He could get used to this. He could get comfortable with this cat-loving side of Sehyoon. He wishes Sehyoon was like this with Byeongkwan. As in, the _real_ Byeongkwan. However, things could change. Time will tell. Until then, Byeongkwan is content to bury his squeals into his sweatshirt and pillow, flopping his legs against the bed.

 

Donghun grunts from the living room. “I swear to god, if you’re in there masturbating to his pictures, I am never speaking with you again.”

 

Byeongkwan smiles at his phone. “Not now, Hunny. Maybe later when you’re asleep, though.”

 

Donghun hurls in revulsion. Byeongkwan only smiles wider.

 

 

–––

 

 

Byeongkwan had resolved within himself not to return to Walgreens for at _least_ three days so it wouldn’t be so noticeable that he’s actively stalking one of the establishment’s employees. Donghun has other ideas.

 

“I don’t give a shit, dude, I need more Tylenol. I’m actually going to _die_.” Donghun has the audacity to stress the last word so much it would actually seem as if he really were dying.

 

Byeongkwan observes his roommate in disgust. The sleazebag hasn’t showered in a couple days, his bangs flopped against his forehead in a mixture of sweat and what’s probably oil from the chicken wing he’s devouring. He doesn’t look apologetic in the least as he smiles through a particularly large bite.

 

“Why can’t you have Chan get it for you?” Byeongkwan whines.

 

“His dad caught him filming a porno with that chick from Barnes & Noble.” It’s Donghun’s turn to look disgusted. The moment quickly passes and he laughs. “The kid just doesn’t stop, does he? Pretty sure he’s grounded until his dad gets busy with something else again.”

 

Byeongkwan agrees with a nod. “He needs some kind of help.”

 

“Maybe you could hook him up with your therapist.”

 

Byeongkwan flips him the bird. Donghun laughs harder. This ultimately results in him hunching over in pain because broken ribs, duh.

 

“Just get me some Tylenol and I’ll owe you a solid,” he pleadingly looks at Byeongkwan from under his nappy bangs. He offers his half-eaten chicken wing as compensation.

 

Byeongkwan promptly refuses the appendage. With the promise of any favor (even dying, although Byeongkwan doesn’t think Donghun would be upset with fulfilling that request), Byeongkwan finds himself at Walgreens again. It’s only been around sixteen hours since he was here last. He hikes his ass over to the Pharmacy counter. Sandra greets him with a smile.

 

“For Donghun again?” She asks as he plops the bottle of Tylenol down onto the counter. He’d rather just purchase the meds here rather than trekking over to the front counter and possibly running into Sehyoon. Like Donghun, he hasn’t showered today either.

 

“Isn’t it concerning that he’s going through so much?” Byeongkwan frowns.

 

“Possibly. Have you considered talking to him about it or switching between painkillers?”

 

“He’s allergic to everything else,” explains Byeongkwan with a spiteful look sent to the rows of meds locked away behind Sandra. He won’t make that mistake again.

 

Sandra nods. She hands him back the bottle. No bag, because Byeongkwan doesn’t need it.

 

“Tell Donghun he needs to get better soon so I can see his pretty face again!” Sandra sends his way as he turns to make his way back to the front of the store. He waves over his shoulder.

 

“He’s flattered.”

 

Byeongkwan thanks the heavens that Sehyoon isn’t at the front counter. Some guy named Rob is and Rob is too busy looking like he might decompose to bother glancing at Byeongkwan.

 

“Have a good day,” Rob monotones. He’s staring into space.

 

Byeongkwan grins. “I sure will!” He bounces slightly as he walks through the automatic doors and—

 

Right into someone. That someone _oof’_ s. Byeongkwan stumbles back in shock, the human wall doing the same. Completely discombobulated, Byeongkwan sucks in a breath. He could’ve sworn he was going out the right way. Damn him for not paying attention.

 

“Uh, sorry,” he apologizes. The person (man, Byeongkwan now realizes) pulls their hood off, and Byeongkwan feels his eyes bulge out of his head like some kind of cartoon character.

 

“Do you walk around everywhere causing trouble?” Sehyoon raises one of his (very) active eyebrows. He pulls an earbud out of an ear, no menace to his tone.

 

“I-it’s a hobby of mine,” Byeongkwan stumbles over his words and backs away from Sehyoon and their close proximity as if set on fire. Sehyoon snorts.

 

“Seems to be more than a hobby to me.”

 

“Like you would know.”

 

Sehyoon smiles wryly. “I think I know more than you think.”

 

This decidedly both confuses and worries Byeongkwan. He’s standing here just outside the door during an August heatwave. Yet he feels a shiver overtake him. Sehyoon can’t know about the messaging thing. There’s no way in _hell_ he could. Donghun hasn’t posted any pictures of Byeongkwan. Heck, the self-centered prick doesn’t even post anything besides selfies with Duchess or updates on his health. There’s nothing for Sehyoon to have picked up on.

 

“Are you a mind reader?” Byeongkwan whisper-yells.

 

Sehyoon crosses his arms over his chest and pops his cheek with his tongue. “Want to test that theory?”

 

Donghun tries really hard not to think of anything weird. Like how sexy Sehyoon looks doing that with his mouth or with that smug look on his face. He tries equally hard not to think about that black and white shirtless selfie Sehyoon posted two months ago. Really, he tries really, _really_ hard. No pun intended.

 

“You’re thinking about something perverted, aren’t you?”

 

Byeongkwan’s face probably gave him away. He could feel himself coloring, heating up under Sehyoon’s gaze and the weight of his thoughts. He’s pretty bad at this whole Being-a-Decent-Human-Being thing. Shame.

 

“I wasn’t...” Byeongkwan trails off, swallowing thickly.

 

This elicits a beautiful sounding laugh that tumbles from Sehyoon’s lips. He’s smiling so big, so unhindered that Byeongkwan nearly raises his hand to shield his eyes from the overwhelming sight. Jesus, it’s bright. Nearly _blinding_. He hasn’t seen him smile like this in eons.

 

Sehyoon claps him on the shoulder.

 

“I know it’s you, Jason.” Another blinding smile that reminds Byeongkwan of the sun. The pressure on his shoulder even feels as warm as the sun, too. Goddamn it.

 

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” Byeongkwan squeaks. He quickly clears his throat. Sehyoon playfully rolls his eyes in return.

 

“Earth to Kim Byeongkwan. It’s me, Kim Sehyoon,” he gestures between them with a hand. “We were friends a long time ago.”

 

Byeongkwan feels as if he might keel over. It would not be too out of character, considering he just body slammed into a pedestrian. He feels rather than sees his vision and balance swim at the newfound information. He can’t say he was expecting that.

 

Sehyoon’s hand steadies him a bit, and Byeongkwan watches his face pull downwards in concern.

 

“I _know_ you recognize me,” Sehyoon insists. It feels as if he’s staring right through Byeongkwan to see into his brain and dust off all the things Byeongkwan’s hid there. He hasn’t thought about those things in so long he half forgot they existed. It’s making an uncomfortable feeling settle in Byeongkwan’s gut. He doesn’t want to be reminded so soon.

 

“Uh, yeah, hi,” Byeongkwan weakly gives a weird wave. “I’m surprised it took you so long to figure out.”

 

“I had a suspicion,” Sehyoon’s lazy smirk is back and he retracts his hand. “But your dumbass showed me your ID. Seriously, you’re kind of your own worst enemy here, dude.”

 

Byeongkwan rolls his eyes. A customer exits the store so they move off to the side.

 

“How have you been?” Sehyoon is inquiring now. “You look a lot different than I expected.”

 

Byeongkwan looks at him. As in, _really_ looks at him. He could say the same, for various reasons. Sehyoon has hair now. Okay, he’s always had hair, but now he has... _hair_. It’s phenomenal looking. Byeongkwan can’t even explain it. It looks so good on him that it just takes his breath away. And his _bone structure_? It truly is unfair. Why is Sehyoon blessed with all these talents and looks and he isn’t?

 

“I’m not as ugly as I used to be,” is what Byeongkwan serves back to the other boy. “You like the blond?” He brushes the hair off his forehead in a sweeping motion, showing off his recent do. It’d been Chan’s idea, actually. Byeongkwan’s never been gladder to know the bean pole.

 

Sehyoon nods politely. “I do. It suits you well.”

 

And Byeongkwan smiles. Shyly at first, but then a grin stretches his face and both of them stand, staring at each other, just smiling for no fucking reason. To any passerby, they probably look insane. Byeongkwan doesn’t care. Sehyoon’s alive. Byeongkwan’s alive. And they’re both here, being dorks. The universe is aligned again.

 

It’s then that Byeongkwan’s phone vibrates in his pocket. To literally no one’s surprise except Byeongkwan’s, it’s Donghun.

 

“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY TYLENOL I’M GOING TO DIE.”

 

Byeongkwan quickly hangs up the phone without offering his roommate a reply. “I have to go.” He hopes Sehyoon hadn’t heard that. The older boy takes the hint and starts nodding in understanding again. The smiles haven’t left their faces.

 

“Do you live around here?”

 

Byeongkwan hums in agreement. “Two blocks away, actually.”

 

“Well, that explains why you’re here so much. I thought you were stalking me.”

 

Byeongkwan really wishes he could laugh at that. He tries to, at least. It just comes out strikingly similar to a drowning Meerkat.

 

“You should go now,” Sehyoon urges, bumping shoulders with Byeongkwan in camaraderie. “Your boyfriend sounds like he’s desperate for your attention.” He throws a knowing, shit-eating grin in Byeongkwan’s face. It’s simultaneously the most disgusting and beautiful thing Byeongkwan’s ever seen.

 

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend,” Byeongkwan grumbles.

 

“Sure thing, Jason. Now go before I have jealous Not-Boyfriend beating me up.”

 

Byeongkwan shakes his head, but he’s not particularly ticked. He’s not sure whether they’re on good terms now or not (were they ever on bad terms?). Does hugging require being friends again for longer than five minutes? He knows he wants to hug Sehyoon, but Byeongkwan is awkward. So, so awkward.

 

Thankfully, Sehyoon decides it for him and pulls the blond into a side hug. One of those Bro Hugs. The no-homo kind. Byeongkwan is mildly disappointed. At least this way he’s still touching Sehyoon, though. Dude has nice shoulders.

 

When they pull apart, Sehyoon ruffles Byeongkwan’s hair. The latter feels his stomach flip and suppresses a squeal of excitement.

 

“Take care,” Sehyoon says and it’s so _genuine_ that Byeongkwan wants to cry.

 

“You’ll probably see me again sooner than later,” Byeongkwan snorts. Then, “Bye, hyung.”

 

Byeongkwan hasn’t pulled the hyung card since probably seventh grade. He feels emboldened as he watches Sehyoon’s cheeks paint the lightest shade of pink. He cheekily walks away, Sehyoon offering his own flustered farewell. This is great.

 

 

–––

 

 

Donghun is unimpressed at the “significant amount of time it took you to get some damn pills.” Byeongkwan is not phased.

 

“There were pressing matters to attend to,” he bites his lip to keep from smiling. Donghun suspiciously points at him from the couch.

 

“Do I even want to know?”

 

“Nah, it’s pretty gay.”

 

“K.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: blond is the masculine form of blonde. i did not know this until i read a larry fanfic in like 2013 (DID ANYONE CATCH THE LARRY REFERENCE ?????)  
> side note: Bye is Donghun's nickname for Byeongkwan. he isn't just saying "lol bye" all the time, although that's 100% something he would do.  
> ALSO this is pure word vomit. i hope you guys enjoy it because i didn't put much effort into it being book-ish (i hope u know what i mean) and just had fun with it. pls enjoy and tell me what you think! all feedback is appreciated!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byeongkwan decides he's never letting Chan use his phone ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am SO SORRY this took so long. this went several different directions while i was writing it and i'm still not satisfied with it, but i decided to publish it anyway because you guys deserve it. thanks for reading even tho i suck at updating lolol

Byeongkwan wouldn’t say he _stumbles_ into Sehyoon four days later (because as it’s been established, Byeongkwan is a little more than creepy), but to the untrained eye, it seems to be fate that draws the two boys together.

 

That, or karma. The _bad_ kind of karma.

 

But really, Byeongkwan didn’t even mean to run into Sehyoon today. He’s awkward and he’s weird and Sehyoon is—well, he’s Sehyoon; he’s cool and suave and whatever other adjectives. Byeongkwan would have avoided him at all costs, were it not for Donghun. The little bitch sent (forced) Byeongkwan on another errand for him and Byeongkwan didn’t have the heart to stand the murderous threats Donghun was sending his way. Still, it’s quite the predicament. What would one do in this situation? Wave at Sehyoon as they’re purchasing condoms for their disabled roommate?

 

(Byeongkwan hasn’t the faintest idea how Donghun gets laid enough to go through _that many_ condoms, especially considering all he does is lie on their couch all day. When does he even break from his video games and anime long enough to invite anyone over...?)

 

Sehyoon appears whilst Byeongkwan is casually browsing the establishment’s contraceptive options and claims there’s “important business” to attend to. Intrigued, Byeongkwan follows after the older boy as he leads them out back to a little alley. Sehyoon promptly sits down next to a rusty dumpster, looking the definition of Laid Back in a blue sweater. Between his thighs is a cup of noodles and between Byeongkwan’s is—

 

Not going there.

 

Sehyoon resembles something like a 90’s anime character and the thought brings a smile tugging at Byeongkwan’s lips.

 

“You can sit down, you know,” Sehyoon says through a mouthful of noodle. Byeongkwan feels himself nod, although he doesn’t move. “I don’t bite,” Sehyoon adds with a playful grin. He pats the ground next to him. Then, in a whisper, “unless called for.”

 

Byeongkwan releases a laugh like a breath of air. He meekly takes up Sehyoon’s invitation and plops beside the eating boy.

 

“You want some?” Sehyoon offers. He holds up a forkful of noodles to blow on, glancing to the side to meet Byeongkwan’s eyes. He holds the fork up in question.

 

“Uh.”

 

“It’s good. Here, try it.” Sehyoon forcefully shoves the food into Byeongkwan’s mouth. The latter chokes a little.

 

“’Imf goo’,” Byeongkwan mumbles, chewing. His forehead crinkles in the middle and Sehyoon smiles like the sun.

 

“Good?”

 

“Goo’.”

 

“Maybe goo will be our always.”

 

Byeongkwan has to glare at Sehyoon to keep from laughing and proceeding to choke his way into the afterlife. Sehyoon is actually pretty funny. Weird, sure, but everyone is weird. Byeongkwan likes this weird. It’s a good weird.

 

“So what’s this important business?” Byeongkwan questions, because it’s been gnawing at the underside of his brain for the last five minutes. Sehyoon gives him a confused squint. Byeongkwan scrubs his hands on his jeans. The action vaguely reminds Sehyoon of his cat scraping its claws against the backside of his couch. “What did you want to talk about?”

 

Sehyoon’s expression smooths out. “Oh yeah.” He gracefully shakes his bangs from his face.

 

When he doesn’t offer any more information, Byeongkwan impatiently taps his foot against the concrete. “So what _is_ it? You’re scaring me.”

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Sehyoon reprimands with a chuckle. Byeongkwan is almost offended. “I just wanted to see you.”

 

“Oh.” Byeongkwan fights the pleased noise that’s choking his throat.

 

“Stupid,” Sehyoon murmurs, though it’s hardly anything other than teasing.

 

They sit in silence for a few moments. The silence isn’t exactly awkward, per se, it’s just Byeongkwan. He’s— _Byeongkwan_ , so feeling awkward comes naturally to him. He sits silently, like he’s decided to become one with the dead and moving would equate to being given away. He thinks he probably mentions death way too much whilst in Sehyoon’s presence. Whatever.

 

“I don’t want to go back to work,” Sehyoon sighs, using the fork to pick around the remaining stray noodles inside the cup. Then he licks it. If Byeongkwan was to indulge in his fantasies, he’d relish the secondhand kiss. As it stands, that’s off the table.

 

Sehyoon absentmindedly wets his lips, his pink little tongue peeking out between them. Byeongkwan stares holes into his sneakers, cheeks just as pink.

 

“Do you have a job?” Sehyoon suddenly asks.

 

Byeongkwan nods with a cough. Now’s not the time to be embarrassed about childhood friends’ mouth organs. ~~That’s for later~~. “I have a couple of part-time jobs, but mostly I just model.”

 

“ _You? Modeling?”_

 

Byeongkwan stiffens. “Uhm, yeah. I-I like...pose for artists or photographers. The pay’s pretty good...” His voice trails off, the last bit just a mumble. Sehyoon’s looking at him in surprise. Byeongkwan hides behind his fringe.

 

“That’s cool!” Sehyoon sounds genuinely impressed. Byeongkwan feels himself relax a little.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah! You should show me some of the pictures, if you have them. I’d love to see them.”

 

It’s in this moment, with Sehyoon smiling at him like he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread, that Byeongkwan remembers why he’d liked him so long ago. Everyone in middle school (leading up to when he disappeared) had been scared shitless of Sehyoon. It wasn’t really anything Sehyoon had done (okay, maybe besides the Ben Stipple pee incident). But Sehyoon was— _is—_ quiet. But he was a lot quieter then than he is now. He didn’t smile much at the other kids, and that basically equaled being a part of the mafia in their middle school. No one messed with the stoic, serious kids, because if their fists couldn’t, then their parents or connections would definitely fuck you up.

 

Sehyoon was different with Byeongkwan. He was polite to most people. He never raised his voice higher than necessary. However, Byeongkwan was Sehyoon’s friend. _Best_ friend. They did everything together. It was different with them in a way Byeongkwan couldn’t explain at the time. Sehyoon was open with Byeongkwan and they were kindred spirits within fifteen minutes of knowing each other. Sehyoon was just...amazing. He was different than anyone else Byeongkwan knew or has known since.

 

Sehyoon’s _nice_.

 

Byeongkwan must have zoned out for his trip down memory lane because Sehyoon’s waving a hand in his face when Byeongkwan blinks back to earth with a start.

 

“You okay?”

 

Byeongkwan chuckles awkwardly. “I’m fine,” he assures with the tiniest smile to greet Sehyoon’s massive frown. “I was thinking.”

 

“What about?”

 

“You.”

 

Sehyoon wiggles his eyebrows, bumping Byeongkwan’s shoulder with his own suggestively.

 

“Not like _that_ , weirdo,” Byeongkwan scowls. Sehyoon is giggling like a school girl beside him and it’s a sound Byeongkwan saves for later. “I was thinking of Ben.”

 

“The pee kid?” Sehyoon giggles harder at Byeongkwan’s grumpy face.

 

“Stipple. Ben Stipple. The kid you traumatized.”

 

Sehyoon scoffs, schooling his face back into the epitome of indifferent. “I did not _traumatize_ him. He was an asshole. He deserved it.”

 

Byeongkwan isn’t sure if he’d agree with that. Ben was annoying and a bully, but Byeongkwan doesn’t think that warrants being publically humiliated in front of the entire school. It was harsh, even for someone everyone hated.

 

Byeongkwan doesn’t say anything. They fall into another semi-comfortable silence, Sehyoon pulling out his phone to check his text messages, and Byeongkwan thinking of childhood crushes and foreign children with failing kidneys.

 

“Oh, can I get your number?” Sehyoon turns to him again. “We can’t keep meeting here by accident.”

 

By accident. Sure.

 

They swap phones. Byeongkwan carefully enters his number into a contact named “Cutest Jason”. He hadn’t set the name. His heart rate speeds up the longer he thinks about those two words and whatever possible implications they entail.

 

Eventually, Sehyoon’s break ends. They say their farewells, and Byeongkwan is disappointed to find that Sehyoon doesn’t pull him into another Bro Hug this time. Instead, Sehyoon smiles and waves him off.

 

 

 

–––

 

 

 

Donghun is insufferable today. There’s nothing particularly shocking about the sentiment, but he seems to be a teaspoon more annoying and about a cup and a half added intolerable. The reason is uncertain.

 

“You can’t keep living like this!” Donghun insists urgently from the couch. He’s already weaseled the details of Byeongkwan’s latest Walgreens trip out of his roommate. “You need to get out more!”

 

“I do get out,” Byeongkwan sniffs indignantly, scuttling down the hall to his room and away from Donghun’s meddling.

 

“When was the last time you left the apartment for anything other than to stalk Kim Sehyoon?” Donghun calls after him.

 

“I went to Fairway two days ago!”

 

“My point exactly.” Byeongkwan hears him sigh. “How do you live like this? I’d go insane.”

 

Byeongkwan spins around on his heels to stomp back into the living room and point an accusatory finger at Donghun. “May I remind you that you haven’t left this room in months?”

 

“I’m injured!” Donghun says, aghast. Byeongkwan rolls his eyes in return.

 

“Injured my ass. I wish your _dick_ was injured.” He throws the box of condoms he’d set on the coffee table at Donghun. Donghun can’t dodge it, so it hits him squarely on the forehead. He cries out in pain.

 

“My dick cannot be stopped,” he hisses as the box falls to the floor unceremoniously. He smirks as he chucks the TV remote at Byeongkwan. Byeongkwan would like to say that since he isn’t injured, he is able to avoid it. Thankfully, Byeongkwan is unnecessarily uncoordinated. The remote knocks him in the stomach.

 

“Man down!” He cries. “Medic! Medic! Man down!” He collapses on the floor and wiggles around like a worm.

 

“Okay, but seriously, I think you should go out tonight,” Donghun suggests.

 

Byeongkwan’s nose scrunches. “Me and ‘going out’ don’t mix well.”

 

“Take Chan with you! I’m sure he’d love to be snuck out by his favorite hyung.”

 

“Don’t say hyung in English, it’s weird,” Byeongkwan gags. “And besides, Chan is grounded, isn’t he? I’d rather not die tonight. His dad is scary.”

 

“Amongst other things,” Donghun smiles dreamily. Disgusted, Byeongkwan shoves a throw pillow over Donghun’s face. “Yuh, what was that for?” Donghun scowls, pushing Byeongkwan away.

 

“Chan’s dad is like...twice our age.”

 

“Exactly,” Donghun does a little Grinch-like grin. “ _And_ he’s rich. Sugar daddy, anyone?”

 

Byeongkwan only shakes his head. A mental break does sound like a good idea, and Byeongkwan hasn’t hung out with Chan in a while. He quickly warms up to the plan the more he considers it. He deserves to have a little fun, right? What could go wrong?

 

 

 

–––

 

 

 

It’s kind of Chan’s profession to be extra. The kid truly is a brat for attention and loves being the center of all drama. It’s most likely for these reasons (or just to torment Donghun) that he shows up at their apartment in the most flamboyant outfit Byeongkwan’s ever had the displeasure of seeing.

 

“What the hell are you _wearing_?” Donghun wrinkles his nose at Chan’s cheetah print suit. It’s Barbie pink. Chan does a little twirl, sliding his sunglasses (it’s 8 p.m.) down his nose to waggle his eyebrows at his friend. There are fucking _diamond studs_ glued to the frames.

 

“It’s _fashion_.”

 

Byeongkwan looks up from his phone to watch their exchange and guffaw at Chan’s get-up. He and Donghun are both sitting on the couch on a rare occasion Donghun is allowing them to watch something not revolving around his _waifus_. _Clueless_ is playing on Donghun’s laptop, although neither of them is paying much attention.

 

“Please tell me I’m not going out with him dressed like that,” Byeongkwan raises his eyebrows. He exchanges a silent conversation with Donghun that indicates no, Byeongkwan is decidedly not.

 

“Help me up,” Donghun sighs like the most put-upon person in the history of mankind. Chan spots him, wrapping an arm around his waist to help him to his feet. Or foot, Byeongkwan supposes; Donghun can’t put much pressure on his injured leg. They shuffle down the hall and Byeongkwan follows after them with his curiosity piqued.

 

Halfway into assisting Donghun in sitting on Byeongkwan’s bed, Chan lets go with a devilish look. Donghun flops back against the mattress, screaming in pain as his mid-section folds and pressure is put on his broken rib.

 

“I’m _dying_ ,” he wails. “I’m going to _die_. Why would you do this? I _trusted_ you.”

 

“Bad move, dude, I’m not the most trustworthy person,” Chan smiles. _King of not giving a fuck._

 

“You’re lucky I like you,” Donghun seethes, “otherwise you’d be dead right now.”

 

“That’s rather kinky.”

 

All of them can’t help groaning because it’s Chan and of course everything he says is just _hilarious_. He swells with pride at the sound. Byeongkwan curses himself for abetting in boosting the kid’s ego further. Somehow, he feeds off their annoyance. Byeongkwan really wonders if he's a parasite in disguise.

 

“For the record, I’m only helping you dress for Byeongkwan’s dignity,” Donghun clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Open the closet door.”

 

“Whoa there, Hun, I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

 

“Go die somewhere I don’t have to see your face.”

 

“That’s what she said.”

 

Eventually, after some strangling on Donghun’s part and squealing on Chan’s, Byeongkwan opens his closet and starts thumbing through his clothes. _Why is the brat wearing_ his _clothes anyway?_ He figures it’s fine so long as Chan changes out of that horrendous suit and burns it in the alley outside or something.

 

“What about that one?” Donghun points from the bed, now properly situated against the headboard with his injured leg elevated in Chan’s lap. The younger boy is tracing shapes on his cast absentmindedly.

 

Byeongkwan plucks the charcoal button-up shirt from the rack and holds it up for Donghun to see. Chan squints at it in abhorrence.

 

“That’s so _boring_.”

 

Donghun flicks Chan’s shoulder in reproach. “No, it’s not. It’s simple. It’s _sexy_.”

 

“I’ll look like a twink! Just like Byeongkwan! Ew, _god,_ that’s _gross_.” He mimes puking all over himself and Donghun’s leg, respectively. Donghun barks a laugh. Byeongkwan does his best not to be offended.

 

He fails. “Shut the fuck up, you wet noodle.” Chan howls. “Besides, your suit is way more twink-material.”

 

It’s Chan’s turn to look insulted. “Well, I _never!_ ”

 

It’s a feat beyond that of the average human to get Chan to change. Donghun is neither average nor human. And although Chan complains the whole time, Byeongkwan can tell he’s happy. He can see that I-Got-My-Way-With-Hyung, self-satisfied expression on the edge of all Chan’s pouts. The evil little thing even has the audacity to look better in Byeongkwan’s shirt than, well, _Byeongkwan_.

 

“Y’all have fun now,” Donghun blows them kisses, now back to the couch. He smiles at them like a doting mother sending her children off to their first school dance. It almost feels that way with Chan hanging off Byeongkwan’s arm like a petulant toddler.

 

“I won’t crash with your boo-thang in the car, I promise,” Chan drawls. He catches one of Donghun’s kisses in his fist and proceeds to pretend to swallow it.

 

“That sure makes me feel a lot better.”

 

“Good!”

 

“That was sarcasm, dimwit.”

 

 

 

–––

 

 

 

Belatedly, Byeongkwan realizes that Donghun failed to confiscate Chan’s studded glasses. The kid keeps slipping them on and off of his head like he’s hot stuff, slouched in the back of his own goddamn convertible because he’s too drunk off his ass to drive.

 

“Why can’t _I_ drive?” Chan whines, flopping around the seat like some kind of seal. Byeongkwan looks at him in the rear-view mirror. It’s been a whole two minutes of driving, yet Chan has asked this exact question too many times to count.

 

“In case you didn’t notice, you’re a drunken mess at the moment,” Byeongkwan articulates as if he’s talking to a goldfish. It wouldn’t be too far from the truth. “Besides, I don’t want to die right now, thanks.”

 

“You’re always saying you want to die,” Chan points out, sliding his glasses down his nose almost accusingly.

 

“Only when it’s convenient.”

 

“Am I not convenient?” Chan sits up straighter suddenly, looking alarmed and like he’s going to shit himself both at the same time. “Why don’t you want to die?”

 

“Because I have to babysit this brat,” Byeongkwan jabs a thumb in Chan’s general direction. The boy in question flinches. He rubs at his stomach, mouth pulling further down by gravity and his massive sad-face. Byeongkwan sucks his teeth. “Don’t you fucking puke in this car, Kang Yuchan. I don’t want your dad on my case any more than he’s already going to be. What do you think he’ll do to you if you puke in his car again?” He shakes his head. “Jesus, you’re a messy kid.”

 

Chan makes a deflated noise. “Donghunny says the same thing,” he pouts. Byeongkwan sees him hunch over in the mirror’s reflection, hugging his knees.

 

“He hates it when you call him that,” Byeongkwan clicks his tongue.

 

“So don’t tell him, then,” Chan mumbles. “And Donghunny _does_ like it. H-he just won’t tell you he does...because he’s a scaredy-cat.” Chan giggles softly in the back seat. “He’s a weirdo poopy-face.” He giggles more.

 

Byeongkwan sighs. “You’re lucky he’s not here to hear this.”

 

“Oh, Donghunny likes it!” Chan perks up loudly, a wide smile to challenge Byeongkwan’s grimace. “He likes me most! Even more than Duchess!”

 

Byeongkwan simply nods along with Chan’s insistent chatter as he claims to be Donghun’s favorite person “ever” in several variations of the same sentence. Byeongkwan can’t see Donghun even having a favorite person, let alone it being Chan, an actual man-child. Byeongkwan doesn’t see the point in challenging a drunken toddler, though, so he just turns on the radio and attempts to drown out Chan’s annoying voice.

 

“—and so he said to not be afraid, but really it was him, not me. The movie wasn’t even scary! But his face is! Why is he so mean?! He—” Chan is interrupted by his own hiccup. Byeongkwan groans from his seat behind the wheel. That isn’t good. With the rate he’s talking, the contents of his stomach are going to end up on the black leather rather than the confines of his dad’s gold-plated toilet bowl.

 

“Stop talking for a bit and sit back,” Byeongkwan instructs. Chan objects with an obnoxious, “But I’m bored! I want Donghunny!”, so Byeongkwan chucks his phone back at him. “Play a game on there or something. We’re almost home, now.”

 

“Home home? Or dad home?” Chan asks quietly, fiddling with Byeongkwan’s phone sadly. The sight reminds Byeongkwan of a kicked puppy. Byeongkwan wants to crucify himself. In retrospect, he should’ve thought to take Chan back to their apartment rather than his dad’s house, but force of habit and the two shots of vodka in Byeongkwan’s stomach had impaired his better judgment. Chan’s house is clear on the other side of town.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” Byeongkwan grumbles. He makes an aggressive U-turn at the next stoplight and does his best not to speed the remaining way back to the apartment. The last thing he needs is a speeding ticket.

 

“Yay! Donghunny time!” Chan cheers. He claps his hands excitedly, bouncing with energy that seems to come from nowhere. A ringing stops his jubilation momentarily. Byeongkwan’s phone in Chan’s lap is lit up with an incoming call.

 

“Who is that?” Byeongkwan tries to crane his neck to see the caller ID.

 

“Unknown number!” Chan sing-songs. Before Byeongkwan can stop him, he’s answering the call and pressing the phone to his ear. “This is Byeongkwannie’s phone!” He announces cheerily. Byeongkwan palms his face with his hands.

 

“Don’t answer random calls, idiot. They’re mostly sp—”

 

“Oh! Hello! Yes, Byeongkwannie talks about you a lot!” Chan all but shouts into the receiver.

 

Byeongkwan glances at the clock. 12:13 a.m. Who the hell would be calling him at this hour?

 

“You want to talk with him? Here, I’ll hand it over to him! Zoom zoom!” Chan makes airplane noises as he attempts to shove the phone at Byeongkwan’s currently occupied hands. Of course, Byeongkwan is a good driver and has _both_ his hands on the steering wheel, so the phone drops and lands on the floor by his feet.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Chan, you dumbass; I told you not to answer it,” Byeongkwan scolds. “Who even was it? My long lost cousin who needs bail money? You know those are just phishing scams, right?”

 

“He says he knows you! It’s your crush!” Chan shouts back in indignation. He crosses his arms over his chest as if in defiance, but his chin is wobbling and his eyes are getting to be an alarmingly glossy state.

 

“M-my _what_?” Byeongkwan scoffs, though his heart feels like it’s been pulled out of his ass. He’s never spoken about anything of the sort with Chan before. “I don’t have a crush,” he states airily.

 

“Donghunny said you do,” Chan sneers. “You stalk him at his work.”

 

_Goddamn it Donghun._

 

“Look, that’s not really your place to be talking behind my back about this kind of stu—hey, what are you doing!? I’m driving!” Byeongkwan watches in horror as Chan unbuckles his seatbelt and crawls over the seat divider. He squeezes his body through the driver and passenger seats and lands face-first into the latter’s floor mat. “What the fuck, be careful! Are you alright—” Chan quickly turns his body around to reach his hand between Byeongkwan’s feet. Subsequently, Byeongkwan unleashes a rather unmanly scream. The whole car swerves as Byeongkwan panics, both of them screeching. Byeongkwan could swear he sees his life flash before his eyes. Amidst the commotion, he attempts to kick Chan’s hands out of the way, but to no avail. The pest grabs hold of the phone lying on the floor near the door and slithers back to the foot-area of the passenger seat with sickening determination. At this point, Byeongkwan’s pulled over to the side of the road and is panting like a dog in heat. He sits, staring straight ahead in a daze.

 

“What in the ever-loving f—”

 

“Yes, sorry about that! Byeongkwannie nearly killed us!”

 

To Byeongkwan’s dismay, the call is still active, and Chan has resumed talking into the line as if he didn’t just give Byeongkwan a hernia.  

 

“He’s driving right now, so he’ll have to call you later,” Chan happily says, climbing into the passenger seat and strapping himself in. He’s wearing a satisfied expression like a second skin. Byeongkwan can’t stop the scowl that overtakes his face. “Yes, I’ll make sure Byeongkwannie calls you back. He misses and loves you, too. Bye, bye.”

 

Chan hangs up. The silence that envelops the car is suffocating. Chan looks at Byeongkwan like a scared animal. “That was S-Sehyoon...” he trails off.

 

Byeongkwan simply gives the boy a sickly-sweet smile. He puts the car back into drive and pulls off the side of the road. His smile doesn’t dim until they’ve stopped in their apartment complex’s parking garage. Chan follows sheepishly after Byeongkwan, who storms into the apartment and into his room without a glance to Donghun. He slams the door for added effect.

 

“What’s up with him?” Byeongkwan hears Donghun question from the living room. _Of course he’s still awake._

 

“Sehyoon,” Chan whispers. Byeongkwan can almost see the knowing look they exchange.

 

Yes, he would like to die right now.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byeongkwan makes a call. Donghun receives one.

 

Byeongkwan is going to die. Just shy of his twenty-second year on this earth and he’s going to die, right here, right now. Nothing can save him now.

 

“You’re not going to die,” Donghun insists with a sigh. He pokes Byeongkwan’s cheek with the tip of his big toe. Byeongkwan can’t even be bothered to move out of the way. “Okay, seriously, anyone would be grossed out by that. Are you alright?”

 

Byeongkwan, half on the couch, half on the floor, is slipping in and out of consciousness. Donghun is making it his personal mission to make sure that he never experiences peace during his earthly life again.

 

“I already said I’m fine,” Byeongkwan snaps sourly, finally turning his face away from Donghun’s feet, much to Chan and Donghun’s relief. “But I _am_ going to die. You can’t change my mind on that.”

 

“How are you going to die?” Chan asks from his position on the floor in front of the TV. He has a game console out that was in the back of his car, apparently. Neither Byeongkwan nor Donghun has ever seen it before. Byeongkwan swallows a grumble. Typical rich kid.

 

“I am going to waste away inside this apartment, right alongside you buffoons,” Byeongkwan replies sadly. He squishes his face into the couch cushion.

 

“That’s a little rude, hyung,” Chan frowns. Byeongkwan lifts his head long enough to send a scathing look in Chan’s direction.

 

“You’re the last person to be talking about rudeness after last night, Channie,” Donghun reprimands gently. Chan had miraculously recovered from his hangover in time to brief their eldest friend on the events of the previous night. Chan hadn’t even asked Byeongkwan’s permission to disclose the grueling details. Byeongkwan groans into the couch fabric. It smells like popcorn and cheese puffs. Or maybe that’s just Donghun’s feet.

 

Byeongkwan rolls onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling. Maybe he just won’t see Sehyoon ever again? He thinks he could do that. He could completely avoid Walgreens and pretend he’s never met or known a Kim Sehyoon in his life. It wouldn’t be that hard, Byeongkwan thinks.

 

If only Sehyoon would stop texting him.

 

As if on cue, Byeongkwan’s phone vibrates from its semi-permanent home in Chan’s back pocket. The kid has his own phone, yet insists on keeping Byeongkwan’s on his person for gaming purposes. Byeongkwan isn’t sure what exactly these games entail, but he’s gotten a lot of suspicious phone calls in the past six months. Besides, Chan has like, _at least_ three phones, all of which aren’t cracked from mishaps with annoying roommates and brownies. (Byeongkwan will never _not_ be mad about that.) There isn’t a reason to use Byeongkwan’s devise, but Byeongkwan lets Chan anyway because why not.

 

“It’s your boyfriend,” Chan announces as he glances down at Byeongkwan’s phone, now in his hand. He couldn’t sound more bored if he tried.

 

“How many times has he texted now?” Donghun grimaces. “Seven? Eight? Why don’t you just answer him already? He’s probably got something important to say.”

 

“Text him? After Chan exposed me like that?” Byeongkwan, appalled, scrunches his nose in distaste. “Do either of you really think that’s a good idea?”

 

Chan shrugs from along the edge of Byeongkwan’s peripheral. Byeongkwan turns to see him stretching his legs out in front of him, scrolling through something on Byeongkwan’s phone. “Maybe it’s not a big deal,” he says. “Look here.” He crawls over to the couch to show them Byeongkwan’s phone screen. On it is what Byeongkwan can only assume are Sehyoon’s text messages. Donghun snatches the phone away to ‘inspect.’

 

“Yeah, I agree with Chan,” Donghun decides after reading the texts. He balances the phone on his thigh for Byeongkwan to see, leg propped on the coffee table. Byeongkwan peers at it as if it’s going to explode in his face.

 

 

 **Sehyoon** :

>>hey I’m just checking in! i hope u got home safe last night

>>your friend sounded pretty wasted, is all

>>please get back to me sometime? haha

>>i hope you aren’t dead

>>do you drink and drive? i don’t peg u as the type but ya never know lmao

>>uh text me whenever u get up lolol

 

 

Byeongkwan groans. Why is Sehyoon literally one of the sweetest people Byeongkwan’s ever met? His kindness is awfully ill-timed, Byeongkwan thinks. Let a man waste away in self-pity for a week, at the very least. It’s common courtesy.

 

“He doesn’t seem freaked out by that phone call,” Donghun points out, as if Sehyoon repeatedly texting him is a _good_ thing. 

 

“I wonder why,” Chan taps his finger against his bottom lip absentmindedly, thinking aloud. “If it were me, I’d be weirded out by myself, even without overhearing an entire conversation while the phone is on the floor—” Donghun hits Chan over the head with his pillow. “ _Ow_ , what was that for?!”

 

“You’re not helping,” Donghun scolds. “Anyone would be weirded out, sure, but anyone would be weirded out if Bye was stalking them at work. Even me, and I love the guy.” Byeongkwan sticks his tongue out at Donghun, who just shakes his head. “Sehyoon sounds, uh, interesting to me. Like, I don’t understand him? I know I’ve never met him, but from what Bye’s told me, he either has ulterior motives, or...ulterior motives.”

 

Byeongkwan frowns. “Ulterior motives? The fuck is that supposed to mea—”

 

“You mean he’s trying to kill Byeongkwannie?!” Chan interjects, entirely too loudly. This earns him another smack served upside the head, creds to Donghun. “Stop hitting me,” he whines. He lays his head on Donghun’s lap with a pout. The latter only smiles and pats his head.

 

“He’s not trying to kill him, sweetie,” Donghun chuckles.

 

“You never know! The guys on Criminal Minds always seem normal to outsiders!”

 

“This is real life, not a crime TV show.”

 

“Inspiration is pulled from real life!”

 

“Both of you don’t know him, so how would you know if he’s trying to kill me or not?” Byeongkwan huffs. “This is honestly ridiculous. He’s a nice guy. Maybe he’s just actually concerned about me. Ever thought about that?”

 

“That’s creepy,” Chan gags.

 

“I agree,” Donghun parrots.

 

Byeongkwan can only click his tongue in annoyance. He pulls his body up onto the couch to properly sit on the large piece of furniture like a civilized human being. Duchess wanders into the room and patters over to Chan.

 

“Duchess! I missed you, baby,” Chan coos, scooping Duchess into his lap. Donghun watches in disgust.

 

“Everyone likes my cat more than me,” he bemoans and throws his head back against the wall with a thump. This spooks Duchess, who leaps out of Chan’s grasp. Chan, like the toddler he is, all but cries at this.

 

“You scared her off!” Chan’s brows fly south. He pinches Donghun’s side, who yelps.

 

“Yuh, watch it, kid!”

 

“I’m only four years younger than you.”

 

“You sure you didn’t mean eight years? I can see how one could miscalculate.”

 

“Donghunny, that’s mean!”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“Donghunny~”

 

Byeongkwan ignores them in favor of salvaging a bit of his sanity. He can feel a migraine coming on, and listening to them will only worsen it. He doesn’t need their stupid banter to interfere with his self-loathing.

 

“Can you move this discussion somewhere else?” Byeongkwan interrupts their current squabble (something about pop-tarts) with a pointed look.

 

“In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s nowhere else I can go,” Donghun whispers as if he’s revealing government secrets. Chan had slithered up onto the couch mid-argument and is now basically sitting in Donghun’s lap, his arms around the elder’s shoulders.

 

“Just go to your room,” Byeongkwan returns icily.

 

“The couch is more comfortable. Plus, the TV’s here. And it’s closer to the kitchen. Why? Do you have a problem with me?”

 

“Yeah, you got a problem with us?” Chan juts his chin out defiantly.

 

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation on Byeongkwan’s part at all and it causes Chan to choke on his spit.

 

“You both are so _mean_ ,” he scowls. “All you do is diss each other. How are you even friends?”

 

Byeongkwan and Donghun exchange a look. In all honesty, Byeongkwan isn’t sure how they’re still living under the same roof and haven’t dismembered each other yet. There surely have been times Byeongkwan wanted to just stab Donghun in the leg and get it over with. Like when Donghun dropped their crockpot of chili all over the kitchen floor and conveniently had a date right then that required Byeongkwan to clean it all up by himself. Or the time Donghun went out clubbing with Chan and crashed Chan’s car into a light post. He’d then proceeded to blame the accident on Byeongkwan  (who hadn’t even been there) and tattled on Byeongkwan to Chan’s dad. Through it all, though, Donghun has remained Byeongkwan’s closest friend. Sure, he’s annoying and a pain in the ass and Byeongkwan sometimes questions whether he’s human at all, but Byeongkwan has never doubted how Donghun feels about him. They’re best friends. _Brothers_.

 

Sehyoon is different. Byeongkwan and Sehyoon’s friendship never posed the kind of comradery that Byeongkwan and Donghun share. At the time, Byeongkwan was too worried about his feelings for Sehyoon showing to really trust Sehyoon to the extent that he does Donghun. He could never imagine picking lice out of Sehyoon’s hair or doing laundry together, buck ass naked at the ungodly hours of the morning. He knows those things are gross and very Donghun-like, but the point stands; Byeongkwan can’t picture himself doing such intimate things with Sehyoon, even though he likes him.

 

Is that a problem? He’d never thought that far ahead, frankly. He never even entertained the idea that Sehyoon could ever like him back.

 

Donghun takes the initiative to answer Chan’s question, carding his fingers through the boy’s hair gently. “I’m plotting his murder as we speak. Don’t tell anyone, okay?” Chan nods obediently, and Donghun’s eyes crinkle like an old book. “Good boy.”

 

Byeongkwan smiles. Maybe it’s okay after all.

 

 

–––

 

 

Eventually, Chan must be returned to his unfairly wealthy father and the balance of the universe must realign. Balance referring to: Donghun coercing Byeongkwan to call Sehyoon back with promises of returning to his bedroom for the first time since his injury.

 

So that’s how Byeongkwan finds himself nervously fiddling with his shirt as he listens apprehensively to the dial tone. He’s sat on the edge of his bed, too nervous to stand, but too tense to fully sit down, just in case he needs to chuck the phone out the window any time soon. He can feel his heart beating in his chest, an awful juxtaposition to his calm exterior, which he is forcing to sit as still as possible in this human form. He doesn’t want Sehyoon getting the wrong idea. As if Byeongkwan were, like, _scared_ to talk to him or anything. Ridiculous, right?

 

Byeongkwan chews on his thumb. It’s the second ring already with no answer. Should he just hang up...?

 

Before Byeongkwan can do anything except nearly shit himself, the line is picked up. Through the phone, there fabricates a very apparent Sehyoon-sounding, “hello?” Byeongkwan promises his chest doesn’t squeeze at the sound. _Ugh_.

 

“Hello?” Sehyoon repeats, louder this time when Byeongkwan offers no response. “Jason?”

 

“Y-yes, hello!” Byeongkwan tries to speak normally, but his voice comes out a pathetic squeak. He could die. He tries again. “You called earlier, so I, uh, thought I’d return the call...” He trails off awkwardly. He completely hates his voice. God, why is he such a dumbass?

 

“Oh, yeah. I was worried because of the weird call last night,” Sehyoon laughs. Byeongkwan can’t say he is able to return it. “Are you okay? Did you get home alright?”

 

“I’m fine. I-I’m good. I wasn’t drunk last night—I don’t drive and drink, by the way. I’m a good driver, a-actually!” Byeongkwan can feel his hands trembling. He’s infinitely grateful that Sehyoon is not able to see him right now, for Byeongkwan is shaking like a sinner at church.

 

Byeongkwan can hear and almost see the smile in Sehyoon’s voice when he says, “I didn’t think you’d be the type to drink and drive.” Byeongkwan could swear that was a compliment. It sounded odd to him, vaguely distant and fond at the same time. Had he heard that correctly?

 

“So, um, i-is there something you wanted to speak to me about?” Byeongkwan pipes up awkwardly. For a second time, he cringes at his voice. Why’s he so _dumb_??

 

Byeongkwan hears Sehyoon moving on the other side of the line. There’s a TV or radio or something on in the background. “I’m sorry to have called you out of the blue,” Sehyoon chuckles. “And especially at such an odd time. I kind of forget that others actually sleep.”

 

Byeongkwan returns the chuckle. “Do you not sleep, hyung?”

 

There’s a beat of silence. “Ah, no, not really.”

 

“Why not?” Byeongkwan frowns in concern, even if Sehyoon cannot see him.

 

“Insomnia,” is Sehyoon’s reply.

 

“Oh.” Byeongkwan isn’t sure what to say. _Sorry for your grievances? I hope you feel better?_ Before he can stop himself, he decides on, “Have you had it checked out?” and then quickly closes his mouth. Jesus.

 

Again, Sehyoon laughs, and it’s one of those sunshiny ones. Byeongkwan feels his insides warm. “Yeah, my doc’s pretty rad,” Sehyoon snorts. Byeongkwan lets out a sigh of relief.

 

“That’s good. I-I mean, not good that you have insomnia, but like, good that you’re getting help—not that there’s anything wrong with you! J-just that, um, I-I’m—”

 

Sehyoon cuts off Byeongkwan’s blubbering with a soft, “I know what you meant, Jason,” and Byeongkwan shuts up immediately. Without wanting or permitting it to, his face heats in a blush. No one’s called him that since elementary school. Their classmates had claimed it was too difficult to pronounce Byeongkwan, so he’d stuck with Jason to make the white kids’ lives easier. Sehyoon’s name was also difficult to say, but Sehyoon would beat you up if you called him anything else. In some ways, Byeongkwan wishes he’d been that brazen so he wouldn’t have been stuck with such an ugly name as Jason.

 

In retrospect, Byeongkwan is secretly glad, though. It’s cute that Sehyoon still calls him Jason. It’s cute that Sehyoon still remembers. Sehyoon’s just cute in general.

 

Apparently, Byeongkwan had zoned out in thinking about Sehyoon’s overall adorableness. The line’s gone silent, save the quiet hum of Sehyoon’s TV. Byeongkwan recognizes that annoying Dominos ad.

 

“S-sorry, I zoned out,” Byeongkwan apologizes, unsure what to say. _Why did Sehyoon stop talking? Had he said anything? Oh god, how long has it been?_

“Oh, you’re fine. I was just thinking about something,” Sehyoon answers with an absentminded hum.

 

“What about?”

 

“You.”

 

This conversation is oddly similar to the one they had the other day. This time, Byeongkwan doesn’t have the mental capacity to make inappropriate jabs, like Sehyoon had. All he can do is softly exhale and press with a quiet, “Oh?”

 

Sehyoon’s voice is equally low when it fabricates against Byeongkwan’s ear. “In some ways, you’re exactly how I imagined you to be,” he elaborates slowly. “But in other ways, you’re completely different. It’s kind of freaking me out.” It’s almost as if Sehyoon is talking to himself and Byeongkwan’s just listening in. It almost feels like he’s not supposed to be hearing this.

 

“Is that a bad thing?” Byeongkwan mutters. He tries not to sound cross, but it comes out that way, regardless of his sublime intentions.

 

“No, I’d say it’s a good thing.” Sehyoon is smiling again; Byeongkwan can hear it. “It’s driving me crazy.”

 

There are a lot of things Byeongkwan wants to say to that. For one, he’s in the same fucking boat. Unfortunately, he’s also a hair’s breadth away from imploding, so all he can manage is to gasp. Breathlessly, he says he feels the same way.

 

“You’re a lot cooler than I remembered you,” Byeongkwan reminisces and accidentally lets a wistful sigh tack itself onto the end. He subtly attempts to clear his throat. “I-I mean, you were always cool. Like, _really_ cool! I always thought you’d beat me up or something!” Here he laughs and begins fiddling again. “Then I got to know you and realized you’re, like, really nice too? I can’t believe you were friends with a loser like me. I looked so gross? And probably ruined your image? Also, I’m poor?” He stops to breathe, although Sehyoon doesn’t offer any kind of reply. Byeongkwan’s chest hurts from the way his heart is hitting against his ribcage. “Ah, I’m rambling, I-I’m sorry.”

 

The silence that ensues is thick and Byeongkwan spends the entirety of it worrying if he overstepped some kind of imaginary line. Had he said too much? Is Sehyoon mad? Did he hang up?

 

But no, Byeongkwan can still hear the faint background noise through the phone. And he can hear Sehyoon’s quiet breathing as well. Sehyoon’s still there, he’s just not saying anything. Somehow, that’s a lot more terrifying.

 

“S-Sehyoon?” Byeongkwan peeps. “I...” Byeongkwan stops. He hadn’t planned on saying anything else so why did he open his mouth? “Uh.”

 

Thankfully, Sehyoon finally gets the hint and opens his goddamn mouth again. Except—it’s different. His voice is too over-the-top, too cheery in comparison to the odd atmosphere. Sehyoon had been acting strangely already, but this is just too much. Byeongkwan feels his headache from earlier returning. 

 

They talk a bit more about this and that. Really, there’s nothing phenomenally memorable about it at all. Sehyoon complains a bit about work, Byeongkwan complains about his roommate (carefully avoiding Donghun’s name, lest Sehyoon put two and two together). By the time their conversation draws to a close, Byeongkwan is none the wiser. Sehyoon promises to text him and set up a time to go for coffee and Byeongkwan can do nothing other than agree in a polite manner. His light voice is a strange contrast to the sinking of his heart.

 

Byeongkwan doesn’t know how long he lies on his bed and stares at the wall. He thinks it’s been maybe an hour, but he isn’t sure. Donghun comes in to check on him.

 

“Dude, are you okay?” Donghun demands upon seeing him. Byeongkwan turns his head to look at his best friend. He’s leaning against the doorframe, shirtless, with Chan’s studded sunglasses perched on his face. What a Donghun thing to be wearing.

 

“I don’t even know,” Byeongkwan murmurs. What even was that conversation? It felt awfully one-sided. Byeongkwan feels his lips pull downward just at the thought.

 

Donghun must notice his pout from the door. He hobbles over to Byeongkwan’s bed and gingerly sits down on the edge. He then proceeds to swing his legs around and scoot to where Byeongkwan’s curled up against the headboard. He levels his face with Byeongkwan’s, coming entirely too close for comfort to squint at him.

 

“You’re not okay,” he clarifies with an air of superiority and knowingness that has Byeongkwan’s eyes rolling.

 

“Wow, thanks, Einstein.”

 

“Hey, no need to be sassy! I’m trying to help.”

 

Byeongkwan just frowns and stares down at his hands wringing in his lap. Donghun follows his gaze and lets out a puff of air. He takes Byeongkwan’s hands in his own. They’re a lot bigger than Byeongkwan’s. They’re also a lot softer.

 

“I know this is like, Chan’s duty or whatever, but if you wanna cry you can,” Donghun rushes out in one breath. He squeezes his eyes closed with a grimace as if he’s scared of Byeongkwan actually taking him up on his offer. Donghun doesn’t seemed thrilled at the prospect of having to witness that. Byeongkwan can’t help but bark a laugh.

 

“Don’t worry, _Donghunny_ , I wouldn’t put you through such trauma,” Byeongkwan teases with a grin.

 

Donghun guffaws. “Trauma? Please. Who has to deal with Chan’s clingy, whiny ass? That’s right; _me_. I swear, sometimes it’s like we’re dating.” He visibly shivers. Byeongkwan squeezes his hands.

 

“You two would be cute together.”

 

“Who? Me ‘nd Chan?”

 

Byeongkwan nods and Donghun recoils as if he’d just touched wet food and scraped his nails along a chalkboard both at the same time.

 

“I think we would be a cuter couple,” Donghun flutters his eyelashes playfully. He moves forward again until Byeongkwan can see all the salubrious filaments and grime deep in his skin. Byeongkwan leans forward as well so that their foreheads are pressed against one another.

 

“You’re gonna need to wash your face first, babe,” Byeongkwan whispers.

 

“Well darn it, looks like we can’t date then,” Donghun grins.

 

Just then, a horrendous meme rendition of Smash Mouth’s _All Star_ interrupts the moment. Donghun pulls away to drag his phone out of his pocket. He looks at it curiously.

 

“One of your milfs?” Byeongkwan asks.

 

Donghun doesn’t even give him the benefit of a glare. “No, I’ve never seen this number before.”

 

Both boys glance down at the device lit up with a call. “That’s an international number,” Byeongkwan raises an eyebrow. He feels the air being rushed out of his lungs. _Wait_ —

 

Donghun is sliding his thumb across the screen before Byeongkwan can get a word in edgewise. He sets it on speakerphone and tentatively lets out a meek, “hello?”

 

The voice that greets them back is all too real, all too familiar. It sends shivers shooting up Byeongkwan’s spine and makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Byeongkwan feels his stomach hurl.

 

“Long time no see, boys.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who do you think the mysterious phone call is from???


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE A THING. somehow i try writing non-angsty things and my brain decides Nope. i apologize in advance. anyways, i think that while this is filler, it's much needed (you'll find out later). sorry seahoonie isn't in this. he and jun (possibly) will appear in the next chapter!

 

It’s almost weird, Byeongkwan thinks, for Donghun to be anywhere but on the couch. He’s grown accustomed to seeing his roommate permanently in the living room, basking in his own filth and allowing the trash heaps around him to accumulate into Trash Mountains. It’s become the norm to see him lounging on the sofa, his foot propped on the coffee table and his dumb TV always playing some foreign show. But for the first time since his injury, Donghun isn’t populating the shared area. For the first time probably ever, the TV is off.

 

It’s honestly giving Byeongkwan the creeps.

 

Donghun locked himself in his room two days ago and hasn’t bothered showing his face since. He hasn’t even come out for more Tylenol or food or water, and at this point, they’re going to need an intervention, divine or otherwise. He’d be almost sure Donghun’s died in there if not for the occasional shuffle coming from behind his door. Byeongkwan will admit that he shamelessly presses his ear against the wood to hear. He can’t really distinguish what all the movement is from, though.

 

Really, the only thing for Byeongkwan to do is to call Chan. It’s not as if they have any other friends, anyway, and maybe Chan could bring a buff guy to break Donghun’s door down too.

 

So Byeongkwan decides to pick Chan up. Chan had texted him saying that he was already out and about and to just pick him up from some club. Byeongkwan, frankly, does not have the energy to question why Chan is at a gay club at three in the afternoon on a Wednesday.

 

“Hiya, Byeongkwannie,” Chan greets as he tumbles into Byeongkwan’s car. The latter just grunts in return. “You don’t seem very happy to see me,” he comments dryly. Byeongkwan sighs. He’s avoided telling Chan about Donghun’s condition, lest the boy freak out and somehow manage to blow something up. Not surprisingly, it’s happened before; Donghun got sick last Christmas and Chan nearly set fire to his kitchen trying to make Donghun chicken noodle soup. It was a mess.

 

“We have a bit of a...” Byeongkwan falters, unsure how to word it. _Problem? No, that’ll make the kid worry._ “A, uh, situation.”

 

Chan, now safely buckled in the passenger seat, looks at Byeongkwan curiously. “Situation? What do you mean?”

 

“Uh,” Byeongkwan scratches his ear. “Just...it’s Dongh—”

 

“IS HE OKAY?!” Chan screeches, all but throwing himself at Byeongkwan. Mind you, Byeongkwan is still _driving a damn moving motor vehicle_.

 

“Whoa, cool your jets,” he soothes, and in an attempt to calm Chan down, he places a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Chan, on the other hand, looks far from fucking calm. His eyes are blown wide, his eyebrows reaching for his hairline, and he looks on the brink of tears. _Ah, bad wording_. “Look,” Byeongkwan tries again, thankfully coming to a stoplight so any other outburst from Chan won’t immediately land them in a ditch. “He’s alright. I-I think. He’s just been in his room and he won’t come out and—”

 

“He’s been in his _room_?” Chan interrupts in disbelief. Byeongkwan nods solemnly. “He never goes in his room! He never has! Even before the accident!”

 

“I know, that’s why this is so weird,” Byeongkwan puffs out his cheeks in exasperation. “Honestly, it’s been like, two days, and he hasn’t come out to eat or anything.”

 

Chan blinks owlishly. “Is...is he dead?”

 

Byeongkwan almost smiles but thinks better of it. “No, I’ve heard him moving in there. He won’t come out no matter how many times I knock, yell, or call him. I think he blocked my number actually, that damn brat...”

 

“Did something happen?” Chan asks in bewilderment.

 

“Well...it’s not really my place to say...” Byeongkwan grimaces. He doesn’t feel comfortable sharing his friends’ personal issues.

 

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me,” Chan replies sourly. “Why even involve me then?”

 

Byeongkwan sucks his teeth. “ _Because_. Donghun’s always had a soft spot for you. I’m hoping you can help him with whatever’s going on.”

 

Chan, in return, just huffs with a petulant, “Soft spot my ass.”

 

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Byeongkwan shakes his head. “You know it’s true.”

 

“And you know it’s also true that Donghun likes you more,” Chan tosses his head. “But whatever. I’ll come help.”

 

The car falls into a comfortable silence, Donghun driving, and Chan staring out the window. He’s tapping his heeled boot against the floor impatiently, much to Byeongkwan’s chagrin. It’s a nervous habit, something Chan does without really realizing his body is even moving. Byeongkwan knows he can’t help it and is just worried about their friend, so he lets it slide. Normally he’d have chewed Chan’s head off.

 

When they pull into the apartment’s parking garage, Chan immediately bolts from the car. Byeongkwan grumbles under his breath as he parks and locks the car because of course, that’s _exactly_ something Chan would do. He doesn’t bother rushing to the elevator, nor does he bother rushing inside, either. Donghun will be where they left him regardless of how quickly they get to him.

 

Chan is crumpled in a heap on the floor outside Donghun’s door. He looks at Byeongkwan forlornly, a little lost when the latter enters the apartment.

 

“He won’t talk to me,” Chan whispers, and Byeongkwan knows that tone. Chan’s going to have a hissy fit. It’s about the last thing Byeongkwan wants at the moment.

 

“He could be sleeping,” Byeongkwan suggests lamely. They both know that’s not true. Still, it seems to calm Chan a bit.

 

“You’re right,” the kid says, and there’s an air of assuredness in his tone that takes Byeongkwan by surprise. “He just needs some alone time. Maybe. I don’t know. I wasn’t here for the last time.” Chan sighs wearily, as if the whole situation has tired him greatly. Honestly, Byeongkwan feels exactly the same.

 

“Look, kid,” Byeongkwan crouches next to Chan, “you’re hungry, aren’t you? How ‘bout we grab something to eat and then brainstorm a battle plan, yeah?”

 

Chan nods numbly. He’s clearly doing his best to keep from picking the lock to Donghun’s door and forcibly making their friend talk. Maybe that’s not a bad idea, actually. Food first, though. Byeongkwan’s starving.

 

They raid the fridge only to find that there’s nothing that looks relatively edible other than the copious amount of Cheesecake Yoplait stacked in the back. Chan gives Byeongkwan a look when he sees the yogurt.

 

“What?” Byeongkwan squawks.

 

Chan levels him with one of those I-Didn’t-Raise-You-Like-This looks that Donghun likes shooting at anyone younger than him. “You really have an unhealthy obsession, man,” he wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Cheesecake? Really? He could at least like a _decent_ flavor.”

 

Byeongkwan crosses his arms over his chest indignantly. “Hey! It’s not...it’s not _that_ bad,” he tries weakly.

 

“My point exactly. You don’t even _like_ yogurt!”

 

“You don’t like men, yet you still go to gay bars!”

 

“You’re right,” Chan sighs wistfully. “I only like _one_ man.” He clutches his chest and practically swoons, a giddy smile overtaking his face. He looks strikingly similar to one of Donghun’s anime characters. That, or Byeongkwan’s just witnessed too much of the shit and his brain has been permanently ~~damaged~~ tainted.

 

Byeongkwan raises an eyebrow. “And that is...?”

 

Chan suddenly closes the fridge with wide eyes, as if just realizing he’s not alone. He lets out a strangled sounding laugh. “H-how about fast food? I’ll pay if you drive.” Without waiting for an answer, he starts off in the direction of the door to retrieve his shoes at breakneck speed.

 

“Not so fast, kiddo,” Byeongkwan warns, grabbing Chan by the back of his hoodie and halting his movements. Chan wriggles and protests loudly, but Byeongkwan slings an arm around his neck and squeezes, bringing his hand up to Chan’s cheek to poke at a freckle hiding there. “Does my Chan have a crush on someone?” He teases with a shit-eating grin. “Is it someone I know? How long have you liked them?”

 

Chan groans, a scowl distorting his face. It’s cute.

 

“I don’t have a crush,” he insists. “It’s just mere infatuation. Mutual respect. You wouldn’t understand.” At this, Chan throws his nose in the air as if to say, ‘ _so there_.’

 

Byeongkwan scoffs. “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

Chan brushes invisible dust from his shoulder. Quietly, he coughs. “ _You_ know...” he trails off, giving Byeongkwan a pointed look. When all Byeongkwan does is stare at him blankly, he rolls his eyes. “You’re impossible. You _do_ realize that you’re, like, the textbook definition of a creepy stalker, right? I’m surprised Sehyoon still talks to you, but at this point, I think it’s safe to assume he’s not all there in the head, either.”

 

Byeongkwan’s jaw brushes the linoleum beneath them. “You brat!” Chan easily evades the swift kick Byeongkwan sends hurling towards his back side. “I’m going to get it out of you one way or another,” he warns mysteriously. To his credit, Chan does manage to appear a little intimidated.

 

“It’s okay,” Chan quips quickly, his mouth stretching over a sickly-sweet smile. “It’s boring, anyway. He doesn’t like me, so it’s obviously not going anywhere.”

 

Byeongkwan pokes Chan’s cheek again. “Who wouldn’t like you?” Then, as an afterthought, “is he blind? All you have is your looks... Wait, is he incarcerated? Is he in a mental ward?! Please tell me he hasn’t killed anyone...!”

 

Chan looks positively horrified. “No! What the fuck?”

 

“Well, he’s insane to not like you,” Byeongkwan shrugs. “Or he’s straight.” Both of them grimace. “He isn’t, is he...?”

 

Chan stares down at his socked feet. He’s wearing two different socks, Byeongkwan realizes. One is pink with purple polka dots. The other has Buzz Lightyear’s face smiling back at him. Chan kicks his foot (the polka dot one) dejectedly and lets out a pathetic little exhale.

 

“That’s the worst,” Byeongkwan pats Chan’s head sympathetically. Chan only nods. “Can I know who it is? I probably don’t know him, then, considering I only know you and Donghun. And Sehyoon, I guess, but he doesn’t really count.”

 

Chan leans his head against Byeongkwan’s shoulder, twisting a bit so he’s more comfortable. Byeongkwan cards his fingers gently through his friend’s hair, feeling Chan relax under his touch.

 

“I-I don’t really—I mean, it’s not a big deal,” Chan begins rather unsteadily. Belatedly, Byeongkwan realizes they’re doing this in the middle of the kitchen. It’s probably not the optimal place, but whatever. He brushes a strand of hair off the boy’s forehead and hums for Chan to continue. And continue Chan really tries to do. He swallows the lump forming in his throat, his eyes jutting around the room nervously as if he’s scared of being scolded. He breathes through his nose deeply. The action is shaky. “I didn’t want to tell you,” he whines, his face looking pained.

 

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Byeongkwan raises his eyebrows in alarm. “I thought that maybe to talk about it, confide in someone, could help you work it out. I know that’s what helps me most of the time. But I don’t want to force you to do anything, _ever_ , especially if you’re uncomfortable. Except maybe the dishes or your laundry. But besides chores, there’s nothing I’d make you do. You know that, right?”

 

Chan manages a smile, albeit a rather watery one, and a nod. His eyes have grown alarmingly wet. “Thanks, Byeongkwannie,” he mumbles. “It’s not that I don’t _want_ to talk about it, because believe me, it’s been eating away at me for a while...” he frowns, his brow puckering. “But I don’t want things to be weird. I-I love you guys. Like, _hella_. Which is a friggin’ lot, in case you’re too old to understand hip lingo. You both mean so much to me. I don’t want to jeopardize that...”

 

It’s Byeongkwan’s turn to frown. “You know you can tell me anything. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve accidentally run someone over in one of your cars. Hell, I’d help you bury a body.” Byeongkwan is graced with a small laugh from Chan. “You could tell me anything and I wouldn’t be surprised—”

 

“I like Donghun.”

 

Perhaps Byeongkwan should have chosen his words more carefully. A few excruciating moments pass in which neither one of them moves. Byeongkwan doesn’t think he even breathes.

 

That’s a bad move, apparently, because Chan is wrenching himself from Byeongkwan’s grasp before Byeongkwan can form a coherent thought. Chan? Liking Donghun? Somewhere in the back of his mind, Byeongkwan knows he should have seen this coming. After all, Donghun and Chan have always been close. Byeongkwan always thought that the relationship was purely platonic, though. He kind of feels cheated, somehow. How had he not noticed? Is he really that oblivious?

 

But no, Byeongkwan had no way of discerning Chan’s cryptic actions up until now. Chan’s always been somewhat of an enigma. If Byeongkwan thought Sehyoon was hard to understand, Chan is a fucking mind-field. One wrong step and the kid blows up. Despite his outward appearance and his loud-mouthed claims, Chan’s actually rather sensitive. Sometimes he can interpret situations wrong. Or actions, in this case, judging by the hurt look on Chan’s face.

 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he chokes out. “Forget what I said.”

 

“Chan, wait, it’s alrig—”

 

“ _Forget it_ ,” Chan cuts him off, his voice complete ice. It leaves no room for discussion. Byeongkwan is nothing if not stubborn. He moves forward to alleviate some of the tension and bring Chan’s head back to sea level, but Chan slaps his hand away. “ _Don’t touch me_ ,” he snaps. As soon as the words are out, Chan freezes up for a completely different reason. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” His hands wave in front of him frantically, looking like a disturbing jazz hands rendition.

 

“No, you’re fine, kid,” Byeongkwan says with a smile he hopes looks sincere to Chan. “I... forgot.”

 

Chan frowns down at his socks again. Byeongkwan is about to open his mouth again when a presence looming in the doorway startles him.

 

“What’s going on?” It’s Donghun. Both Byeongkwan and Chan look at him in equal parts irritation and surprise. Donghun balks at the display. “Damn, what’d I do now? I could’ve sworn you two were worried about me, but I can see how I could’ve misinterpreted your actions now.” He lifts his eyebrow, giving Chan a once-over. “Who pissed in your cereal?”

 

Chan seems to short-circuit. He blinks, wide-eyed, at nothing in particular. “U-uh...”

 

Donghun points an accusatory finger at Byeongkwan. “You broke him!” He moved to place a protective arm around the younger’s waist. This doesn’t help Chan’s predicament in the least. He catches Byeongkwan’s eye, and the boy flushes bright red, dipping his head in shame. Byeongkwan could laugh if he wasn’t currently glaring daggers at Donghun.

 

“Chan and I were having a much-needed discussion,” Byeongkwan articulates and it’s rather condescending if does say so himself. “I would appreciate if you didn’t stick your nose into other people’s business.”

 

Donghun puts his hands up in mock defense. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we suddenly had super-secret conversations in the middle of the kitchen.” _Damnit, of course he’d mention that._ “Besides, is it ‘much-needed’” —he makes obnoxious air quotation marks— “if he’s crying? Just what is so important that you drive him to tears?”

 

Neither Byeongkwan nor Chan have a plausible excuse. Donghun seems to have expected as such. Instead of berating them further, he simply pulls Chan closer to his chest. Chan, not to Byeongkwan’s surprise, hasn’t lifted his gaze from the floor, though the tips of his ears are fire engine red.

 

“Whatever,” Byeongkwan grumbles, “this isn’t why he’s here, anyway. Care to explain yourself, mister?”

 

“Who, me?” Donghun has the audacity to act innocent.

 

“ _Yes_ , you. Why have you been in your room for the past two days?”

 

“Can I not be in my own room?” Donghun challenges evenly. “Last I remember, I agreed to do just that when you forced me out of the living room.”

 

Byeongkwan scrubs a hand down his face. “You know that’s not what I meant. You’ve been avoiding me for an uncharacteristically long time. Like, I knew we had bad blood, but Jesus, I was worried.” Donghun opens his mouth to interject, but Byeongkwan hisses through his teeth. “Don’t bother with the excuses. I know that phone call shook you up. Don’t pretend—”

 

“Phone call?” Chan squeaks softly.

 

“It’s nothing,” Donghun dismisses.

 

“I beg to fucking differ,” Byeongkwan sneers, because really, is he trying to play that game?

 

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business—”

 

“—it’s my business because I care about you—”

 

“—that still doesn’t excuse your behavior. What are you, my fucking mom?”

 

“You’re being a real asshole right now—”

 

Byeongkwan’s voice dies in his throat as Chan’s fist connects with Donghun’s face. The latter stumbles back, catching his body on the counter and clutching his cheek, his eyes wide in shock.

 

“What in the—”

 

“STOP BEING FUCKING DICKWEEDS!” Chan shouts. It’s much too loud for the small space, but it effectively shuts the both of them up, so it probably served its purpose. Chan stomps over to Byeongkwan and kicks him in the shin, before thinking better of it, and slapping the back of his head.

 

“Hey, what’d I do?!” Byeongkwan squeals. This earns him a flick to the forehead.

 

“You’re both being insufferable and this is both of your faults! I won’t hesitate to lock you both out of the apartment until you settle whatever’s going on between you. I don’t _care_ that this isn’t even my apartment; I’ll do what I have to do until you both stop acting like the child you claim me to be. Any objections?” The last two words are spit through his clenched teeth.

 

Byeongkwan may be somewhere between dumb and dumber, but he doesn’t have a death wish. So, with a resounding “no,” from the two sullen boys, Chan leaves the kitchen. In the wake of his trail, Donghun and Byeongkwan look at each other for the first time all week. There are lavender smudges under Donghun’s eyes, which look to be attempting to recede into his head. Byeongkwan notices that he’s in the same clothes he was the last time he saw him. He swallows his pride.

 

“I’m sorry,” Byeongkwan says honestly.

 

Donghun shrugs halfheartedly. “S’kay,” he mumbles. “I would’ve been mad too. And I’m sorry as well. That was lame of me.” He chuckles in a somewhat self-depreciative manner.

 

“I was lame too. We were _both_ lame,” Byeongkwan acquiesces. “Let’s not do that again.”

 

“Like, never. I don’t think I could put up with anyone else’s messes.”

 

“I don’t think anyone else could put up with _you_.”

 

Donghun laughs heartily. Byeongkwan joins him. He’s pulled into a hug by the older boy, who wobbles a bit before Byeongkwan steadies him with a hand to his hip. Byeongkwan had almost entirely forgotten about his injuries. He feels a little bad for the punch Chan gave him earlier.

 

Donghun mouths something into Byeongkwan’s shoulder, but it’s too muffled and too quiet for him to catch.

 

“What was that?” Byeongkwan moves away so he can see Donghun’s face. Said face is scrunching up in an unfamiliar and slightly disturbing expression. “Dude, are you constipated?”

 

“This is my caring face,” Donghun glowers.

 

“Sorry to break it to ya, bud, but never pull that face again.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Chan is sitting on the couch when they leave the kitchen, his hands folded in his lap and his lips pursed in expectation. “Explain,” is all he says.

 

Byeongkwan and Donghun take seats on the floor in front of him without complaint. In situations like these, it’s best not to rock the boat further. Donghun would probably drown. And then both Byeongkwan and Chan would drown too, trying to drag his fatass back to the surface.

 

Donghun is first to speak up. He starts slowly, feeling out the words as he goes. “I got a call,” he admits.

 

Chan folds his left leg over his right. “So I heard.”

 

“So did I,” Byeongkwan joins the party, only to be shot down by a snap of Chan’s fingers. So mean.

 

“I got a call,” Donghun repeats, mostly for his own benefit and/or morale, probably, because they’ve already established that Donghun got A Goddamn Call. “It came two days ago. That’s why I’ve been in my room. I was avoiding residing amongst the living, so I holed up in my room to avoid you guys seeing me...mope.” He cringes.

 

“Do you know who the call was from?” Chan directs the inquiry at Byeongkwan this time. The latter gives an apologetic smile, and Chan visibly deflates. “Am I the only one being kept in the dark here?”

 

“He only knows because he was in the room when it happened,” Donghun quickly amends.

 

Chan doesn’t seem touched. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He says flatly.

 

“You weren’t...here,” Byeongkwan explicates. “It wouldn’t really make sense to you if you weren’t here for the whole story.”

 

Chan’s eyes nearly roll themselves out of his head. “Then can someone _please_ explain this bullshit? Is this some kind of big secret I’m just now finding out about?”

 

Byeongkwan pulls a face. “Er, kind of.”

 

“My god, you love to drag this out, don’t you—”

 

“It’s my ex,” Donghun cuts him off. “My ex-boyfriend.”

 

The room falls prey to a deafening silence. It eats away at the pleasant feeling usually present and leaves Byeongkwan feeling cold all over. This room, this very couch, even, has seen its fair share of brutally honest moments, including that time Donghun confessed to once having sex with an IHOP waitress on Byeongkwan’s bed “for the experience” (Byeongkwan has locked his door ever since). Or the time Byeongkwan’s pants malfunctioned and he accidentally flashed Donghun and then newly eighteen-year-old Chan that resulted in a very long conversation on public nudity. None of those instances, however, quite surmount to this. Chan is deadly quiet. He’s staring at Donghun as if he’s grown an extra head.

 

Oh. Right. The kid has a crush. That makes sense.

 

“I thought you were straight,” Chan’s voice comes out odd, like the rise and fall of ocean waves. Byeongkwan can only imagine how the guy’s going to get over this instant boner-killer. If only he knew.

 

“I am,” Donghun says.

 

Chan doesn’t look convinced. “Then how...?”

 

“It’s a long story,” Donghun monotones almost robotically. Then he smiles. “But I’m tired and I’m hungry. Have you eaten? I want Taco Bell.”

 

And like that, the events of the day draw to a close.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actually im a sucker for chan oopsies i lovelovelovelove writing him sorrynotsorry


End file.
